


I Deal in Ice

by Crescentmoonmadness



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Captivity, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Gangs, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Torture, but its still pretty dark, the tags make it seem darker than it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 84,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescentmoonmadness/pseuds/Crescentmoonmadness
Summary: Jughead Jones is the master of his domain. The Serpent King, feared by all, ice running cold through his veins.Betty Cooper is just trying to find her dad.When he picks her up, broken and bloodied, on the the side of the road, neither knows just how much their lives are going to change





	1. Deer in the Headlights

The SUV glided down the highway, moving smoothly over the bumps and cracks in the road. It was too early to be driving out to the warehouse, horrors and deeds untold waiting ahead. The sky was black, dotted with stars that desperately clung to the ever-fading night.

That was the way it always was Penny. She would beckon in the early morning and he would crawl out of bed, cloth himself in whatever was closest and leave, slinking off into the night.  It's not like he had much choice. He belonged to her the moment his father was out of jail.

There had been a brief moment of time when FP thought he could offer himself up to Penny instead, but in Penny’s eyes, it was much more fun to use him for her less-than-savory deeds than FP. Penny wasn’t an idiot; she knew that using Jughead would hurt FP more than using FP himself.

Jughead let his mind wander as the road curled and twisted before him. He had proven he had many uses to Penny. He remembered his first drug run, him and Sweet Pea slipping into the Greendale industrial zone to deliver the massive crate. He remembered making jokes about drug dealers being the least inconspicuous people he knew. He remembered thinking it would be a one-time arrangement, and he remembered that way his heart clenched when the woman receiving the  _ shipment _ , as she had called it, had asked if he would be her regular delivery boy.

He had brushed off the old woman at the time. Once he was outside he had called Penny immediately, desperately hoping that there had been some kind of miscommunication. He could still remember the way his veins had turned to ice at the sound of her cold laughter floating through the airwaves.

_ “Oh Juggie, welcome to the business.” _

He trained his eyes on the road. He once again felt that familiar coldness sweep through his body at the memory of how all this mess had started. That was probably the worst part of all of it, Jughead thought to himself. He had been working for Penny for about six months now, and he no longer felt the nausea he used to when traveling to a job. That had gone away after the first month. No, now all he felt was ice, seeping its way into his bones, crawling its way into his heart. He knew it was a defense mechanism, in his heart he knew that. A way for his brain to keep his two selves separate, because that was the problem. Jughead felt like he was being torn in two.

There was the Jughead that lived in the sunlight; sarcastic, smart, Serpent. This Jughead was a leader, he ruled at his father’s side, he was a proud member of the Southside. There then was Penny’s Jughead. The Jughead who roamed the darkness, who was well-versed in breaking jaws and shattering lives. It wasn’t even that he consciously tried to separate himself from his nighttime escapades. It had just happened.

_____________________________________________________________

_ It started the night Penny called him in a panic. It shocked him awake, like someone pouring ice water over him. Her voice slithered into his ear, “ _ Jug, I need you… _ ” _

_ His heart clenched at her voice, for a moment he thought she was drinking, but then, “ _ Please, Jug. I think they’re going to kill me _.” The sound of her sobs propelled him from bed, hurriedly grabbing clothes and tugging them onto his body. He drove recklessly through the streets, towards where she said she was. He carefully snuck into the basement and found her tied to a chair, broken and bloodied. _

_ Jughead couldn’t explain how his heart clenched when he saw her. How could he feel anything akin to sympathy for the woman that had terrorized him and his father? He untied her, placing an arm around her waist and throwing her arm around his shoulder, and together they escaped the tiny basement. He placed her gently in the passenger seat, careful not to touch any wounds. At that moment, he could tell that she was just as lost as he was. He could see through her hard exterior, and it had been in that moment that he stopped hating Penny. How could he? She was just as broken as he was. _

__________________________________________________________

In the coming days, Penny would explain that she had gotten mixed up with the Ghoulies, and had been stepping on their drug dealing toes for a while. They had finally gotten sick of it and had retaliated. He had held Penny while she cried, recounting the fear of being taken, and the horror of realization that they wouldn’t be holding back on her punishment just because she was a woman. A bond had been formed that night between himself and Penny, and no matter how much he hated his nocturnal routines with her, he just couldn’t seem to let her drown herself alone. And so here he was, five months later, coming when she called and letting the ice in his veins, ice that  **she** had put there, separate his two selves.

It was still dark out, too early in the morning for the sun to have woken itself from its slumber. He always got nervous this time of day. Dawn would be coming soon enough and the world would start to awaken. It was the time of day where unforgivable acts were committed.

Dawn was Penny’s favorite time of day. She would always prance around whatever warehouse she had situated them in, crooning about new beginnings and how the morning air made her want to crack skulls. Jughead hardly shared the same sentiments. They were closer now, the feelings he felt in her presence much less intense than hatred. It was almost camaraderie. He had seen her torn up insides, had gotten a glimpse of her shattered soul. You can’t hate someone after that.

The trees lining the road rushed by, their shadows holding secrets unknown. Jughead had grown up roaming these forests with Sweet Pea and Joaquin and occasionally Penny. They had all been in the same age range. Penny and Joaquin had always been closer, being in the same year in the school. Jughead and Sweet Pea were just a year younger, but somehow when they were younger it had been the biggest divider in their group. Penny had always wanted to be the boss, showing even early on her adept capability for ordering men around. Joaquin and Jughead had learned early on to just ignore her, but Sweet Pea had spent most of his childhood yelling at Penny to leave him alone and mockingly calling her mom. Every once in a while Jughead had to stop himself from chuckling at the way their lives had all turned out. Back then all Penny had wanted was control, and now she had it. Over him, over Sweet Pea, and any other Serpent that she wanted to make her lackey.

Jughead watched as the road ahead of him bent into a curve. If Sweet Pea had been with him, the boy would have begged Jughead to speed into the turn, spouting off knowledge about turn apexes and acceleration zones. Jughead, however, was quite content to set the cruise and just enjoy the ride.

Sweet Pea had gotten into racing as soon as he got his license. There was plenty of competition in Riverdale; spoiled Northsiders, cocky Ghoulies, eager Serpents. Jughead pretended to hate the sport, but in truth, he had never missed a race.

He saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as he came into the corner. He pressed on the brake a little, anticipating the deer that he thought would emerge from the side of the wood.

It was her hair that he noticed first. A shock of platinum blonde that his headlights illuminated so brightly that they acted as a reflector. The rest of her was clothed in black and hard to see. Jughead almost didn't recognize what he was seeing until it was too late. He watched in a stupor as she crawled up the ditch and made her way to the highway, taking one, then two, then three steps onto the pavement.

It was almost too late before he jerked himself into action and slammed on the brakes, veering away from the blonde’s body into the opposing lane of traffic. He pressed harder into the pedal, feeling his vehicle skid on the dry pavement. He came to a stop about thirty feet away from her and looked into his rearview mirror. He turned, craning his neck to see her, hoping to God that he hadn’t hit her. Had he? He hadn’t heard anything. He tried to replay the moment, but it was all a blur. He was still looking for her out the back window when he heard a loud bang on his passenger door and felt an icy hand grip his stomach. Her eyes were frantic, and Jughead noticed immediately that her fingertips were leaving faint blood stains on the window.

She quickly pulled once then twice on the door handle, her whole body jerking with the movement. Jughead could see now that it wasn’t just her fingers covered in blood. The tips of her blonde hair were dyed red, still wet with the substance. She jerked the handle again and before he could stop himself he was pushing the button on the side of his door. He couldn't tell himself why he would let a strange woman into his vehicle. Especially one that he found on the side of the road. It was as if he wasn't in control of his body anymore. His finger was making the decision before he had a chance to.

She threw open the door the second the lock clicked open. Jughead watched as she slid herself into the vehicle, slamming the door behind her, quickly reaching over to shut to push down the lock on the door. He flinched a little as he watched her quickly turned herself around to face him, her eyes wild with fear, pinning him in place.

“What are you waiting for?” the blonde shouted, “Drive!”

Again, before Jughead could process anything, his hand was reaching for the gear shift, pulling it into drive and his foot was firmly planting itself on the accelerator, screeching off down the road.

It was a couple minutes after before Jughead could fight through the shock. He cautiously looked at the girl beside him out of the corner of his eye, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he was attempting to look at her. Her blonde hair, he could now see, was disheveled and dirty, streaks of mud and blood clinging to it. It looks like she had men's clothing on, as everything she was wearing was entirely too big for her. What drew his attention the most was the gash on her thigh.

“Are you alright?” he rasped, then immediately berated himself for such a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t alright, even an idiot could see that.

He flushed at the astounded look she gave him, her mouth gaping open, her head tilting to the side as if to say “ _ Are you stupid?”  _ He cleared his throat quickly and tried again.

“I mean, obviously you’re not alright, but, I mean…” He couldn’t think of what to say, “Do you need any help?”

Again she stared at him, this time raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’re already helping me,” her voice was quiet and soft, like a fleece blanket on a cold day, “you know, by giving me a ride.”

Jughead almost smiled in spite of himself, then remembered the completely odd situation he was in and quelled the upturn of his lips.

“Shit,” she gasped. Jughead watched as one small hand came to rest on her thigh gently. She made a half turned to look behind her down the highway, although Jughead wasn't sure what she thought she was going to find.

Jughead surprised himself by quietly muttering, “That looks really bad.” The blonde looked at him with a look of disdain, her face transforming into a scowl.

“I’ve had worse.” At the look of disbelief on Jughead's face she added, “Keep driving.”

Jughead fixed his eyes back on the road, although every few moments his eyes unwillingly darted down to the blood that was now seeping through her clothes.

_ What the hell happened to her,  _ he thought to himself. Beside him, he heard the blonde start muttering to herself again. It wasn't loud enough for him to hear what she was saying, only catch a word or two here or there.

“So stupid…escape plan... He was supposed to _ be _ there…the hell am I going to do?”

Jughead swallowed the words that wanted to leave his mouth, words that would ask her what she had been doing out in the woods, who was she was escaping from, who was the man that was supposed to be there. The inquisitive mind inside him wanted his questions answered, but the larger portion of himself stayed quiet, choking on all those words.

He reached into the cup holder for his phone, deftly finding the call button and hitting the contact he was looking for.

“Juggie, where are you? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.” He sighed at the edge in her voice, hard as steel. They may not be outrightly hostile to one another anymore, but there was always something about Penny that grated on his nerves.

“I'm not going to be able to make it, Pen.” Jughead looked over at his passenger seat, the girl now looking out the window again, “Something came up. We're going to have to do this tomorrow.”

Jughead heard an impatient sigh come through the phone and braced himself for Penny’s infamous anger. The calm that he was met him was so much worse than her fury.

“Oh Jug, you can't cancel on me… and you won't cancel on me. You wanna know why?”

Jughead breathed into his phone, “Why?”

“Because I have a special treat for you today. Your favorite kind of business.” Jughead clenched his eyes shut for a moment, then looked back up to the road.

“I can’t do that today, Penny. Listen, I have something I have to tell you…”

“Don’t want to hear it, Jug. Get your ass here, now.” There was no room to argue with her. Over the past five months, their relationship had moved from hostile and unwillingly, to more like partners. But she was still the boss, and she liked to make that known whenever he faltered.

Jughead tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he heard the lilting sound of her voice, snarky and knowing that she had the upper hand. And Jughead knew it too.

“You're going to get your ass down here and you're going to stop wasting my time. I'll see you in 15 minutes.” Jughead huffed out a sigh, knowing that there was no way around this. “I need you here today, Jug.” Jughead rested his head against the seat as the line went dead.

He glanced at the petite girl in the passenger seat, feeling the impossible situation crush him.

“I’m taking you to the hospital, but I need to do something first.” The words came out gruffly, his Serpent training kicking in. He saw the panic rise again in her body, everything clenching tight, her own limbs seeming as though they were trying to concave inside of herself.

“No.” Jughead clenched his jaw as he heard her speak. He wasn’t used to people saying no to him. He was vaguely aware that she was still rambling in the seat next to him. “No way buddy, you can drop me off right here and I will find another way to get to where I need to go. I am not going to the hospital and I am certainly not making any pit stops with  _ you.” _

Jughead looked at her out of the side of his eye, smirking in spite of himself as he saw her reach for the door handle. He pressed down on the accelerator speeding up ever-so-slightly.

He heard her gasp and shift in her seat to face him. He could almost feel the heat of rage radiating off of her body and wondered how someone so small could contain so much anger.

“You’re not going anywhere, and you seem like a smart enough girl to avoid jumping out of a speeding vehicle.” Her breath quickened beside him and she tried the handle a couple more times to no avail.

“Let me go!” She wheeled around on him, her arm raised as if to attack him, which, he thought to himself, was not the smartest decision as he was driving as a fairly illegal pace. He twisted sideways, hoping to deflect whatever shot she planned to throw at him, his worn leather jacket slightly slipping off his shoulder.

He watched as her eyes zeroed in on his arm and glanced down. His tattoo had poked its way out of his jacket, and he realized that this is what must have stopped her attack on him. All the fight seemed to seep out of her as he shrugged his jacket up to its rightful place.

“You’re a fucking Serpent.” Jughead was taken aback that she knew the tattoo well enough to recognize it, even in the early morning light.

“How do you…” He started to demand, but was interrupted by her quaking voice.

“Of course you are. For fuck’s sakes!” she shouted, throwing her head back to hit the headrest. Jughead tightened his grip on the steering wheel involuntarily, the shrill of her voice sending shivers right down his spine. He listened to her groan in what must have been frustration, but he was completely bewildered by her reaction. He had experienced fear, respect, and judgment when people saw his tattoo or the leather jacket that always adorned his torso, but her reaction felt like none of these emotions. Jughead scoffed when he realized that her reaction was closer to inconvenience than anything.

“I don’t know how the fuck you know about the Serpents, but if you know the Serpents then you know better than to insult one.” He said this darkly, his voice like gravel being crushed into pavement. Her response, however, was not the fear that he was used to.

“Shut up, Snake. Jesus, how can one person’s luck be so bad?” She muttered this last part to herself, and Jughead couldn’t help but wonder what kind of experience with the Serpents she could have had in the past to warrant this kind of reaction.

His anger had spiked though at being told to shut up. He tried to contain his rage as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You should be careful what you say, Blondie. Us Snakes? We like to bite...hard.” He let the words linger, knowing that the threat would scare any Northsider straight.

He heard a scoff from the seat beside him, and his brow furrowed. He turned to look at her, met with an unimpressed gaze and a raised eyebrow. Somehow this tiny, wounded woman was not scared of him, not in the slightest.

Her voice drawled out, dripping in disdain, “Please. The monsters in my dreams are scarier than your pathetic gang of lowlifes, and those monsters in my dreams? They don’t even begin to scare me as much as the monsters I face when I’m awake.”

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded. Here was a girl, wounded, running from God knows what, brave enough to get in a vehicle with a complete stranger, and then have the guts to insult a known gang member from the roughest part of Riverdale. He was shocked into silence, could not even begin to think of a retort to throw back at her.

He watched as she twisted to look through the windshield again. Her hand absently came up to rest on her wound. She hissed quietly under her breath, the pain of the cut seeming to come to the forefront of her mind.

It was obvious that the blood loss is making her weak, as he watched her getting the slightest bit paler. The morning sun, still far off from cresting the horizon, had begun to brighten their surroundings enough for him to see her face. He didn't have time to argue with her about this he decided, or enough time to make her properly show the respect that she should.

“I don’t give a shit about your monsters, waking or not. I might be a Serpent, but that doesn’t mean that I abandon people on the side of the highway, especially when they are about to faint from blood loss.” She opened her mouth to speak again and he slammed on the break, veering to the shoulder of the highway.

“So here’s how this is going to go,” he lowered his voice, feeling the rumble in his chest, as his anger struggled to vibrate out of him, “You are going to get in the trunk, you are going to hide, because the people I work with can’t see you. You are going to stay quiet, stay put, and then I am going to take you to the hospital. I am going to drop you off, and I will leave. But I am not going to leave you on the side of the road to die.”

He had continued to inch closer to her as he spoke, and by the time he was finished she was pressed against the window and he was leaning over the console, his face impossibly close to hers. He could almost feel her warm breath on his face.

He jerked back suddenly, twisting to open the door. He slammed it shut behind him, taking quick strides around the front of the vehicle, making it to her door before she even had a chance to process what he was doing. He pulled on the handle harder than he needed, but she was still resting against it. He moved quickly, not even hesitating as he placed a hand behind her back to catch her. She slumped against his chest as his other arm circled under her legs. He could hear a mild protest, but just adjusted his grip on her small frame, jostling her enough to make her silent.

She gasped in pain as her injured leg moved, the blood again rushing to the surface. He carried her gently to the back of the car, hoping that the movement wouldn’t cause the wound to start gushing again. He waved his foot quickly underneath the back bumper of the SUV back hatch, which opened up slowly for him.

He carefully observed the empty space, his eyes ghosting across the miscellaneous junk. A couple extra Serpent jackets in a box, a file folder of paperwork. He set her down on the edge of the trunk, legs facing the side of the vehicle. He motioned with his hands for her to move back and watched as she slowly scooted her way into the very front of the trunk, her side pressed against the seat there.

Jughead watched her carefully, seeing her falter in her movements a couple times. He wondered if he should check her wound again, but then second-guessed himself and decided that she would be fine. He was about to walk away when he saw her body slump involuntarily into the seat in front of her, watching as her eyes fluttered shut then open again.

He closed his eyes tightly, not wanting his bleeding heart to get the best of him. That’s what his dad always told him.  _ You feel too much to be a ruthless leader, Jug. You have to find a way to turn it off. _

He glanced back at her, watching her chest move in shallow breaths. “Fuck it,” he muttered to himself. He quickly undid the knot of the plaid sweater resting at his hips, throwing the article of clothing over his shoulder. Jughead threw one knee up into the trunk of the SUV and swung the rest of his body in after him. In a couple of less-than-graceful moves, he was seated right beside her.

She seemed to jolt back into awareness at his proximity. Now that he was directly in front of her, Jughead could see how pretty she was. Emerald green eyes that looked like a beacon in the night; soft, porcelain skin that seemed stretched too tight across her face. He did a quick once-over of her body, checking for more wounds, he told himself and noticed that the reason she had looked so small in the front seat was because she was exactly that… small. She couldn't be more than five and a half feet tall, a huge difference from his height of just over six feet. But there was something else to her that made her look like childish in stature.

He noticed a bony knee poking out from a hole in her jeans. The skin stretching out drastically across the plane of her cheeks. She looked like she was starved, like she hadn't eaten a real meal in months. Then he noticed the bruises on her neck. His eyebrows flew up into his hairline and without thinking he immediately grabbed her arm closest to him, pushing up the sweater sleeve. He found what he was looking for. Several angry, dark bruises littered her arm, and he could only wonder how many more were scattered across her body. “Jesus,” he murmured, “who did this to you?”

Jughead knew immediately that he had crossed a boundary. She quickly drew her arm back, crossing them in front of her chest, pulling her knees up to her chest, looking as though she wanted to disappear. Jughead cleared his throat and looked away quickly.

Jughead spoke in his most calming voice, “I need to see the cut on your thigh.” She looked like she about to tell off again, but he quickly placed a gentle hand on her forearm, not knowing what was causing him to want to be so cautious with her. “Please, I can’t have you passing out and bleeding all over my vehicle.”

He saw something close to a smile ghost across her lips and his next breath caught in his chest. How could a simple quirk of the lips cause him to stop breathing? What the hell was wrong with him? Jughead gently grabbed the ankle of her injured legged and pulled down, flattening the limb against the floor of the trunk. His hands ghosted over the large cut, and now that he was closer he could see that it was entirely deeper than he had thought originally.

Jughead took the flannel from his shoulder and folded it into threes so that the arms were still free and the rest of the shirt made a thick strip of fabric. Without second guessing himself he laid the thickest part of the fabric across the top of her thigh, wrapping the arms of the shirt under and then crossing them to bring the sleeves back up to the top of her leg. The whole process only took a couple seconds, and Jughead braced himself for what came next.

“Deep breath,” he whispered. He looked into her eyes to see a quizzical look there. “This is going to hurt.”

Before the blonde could even move her lips to speak, Jughead made a knot with the sleeves dead above the deepest part of the cut, pulling down swiftly to tighten the knot. He heard her gasp at the pain and watched as she pulled her arms out away from her chest. She made a fist and Jughead almost thought she was going to take another swing at him, but her fist struck the back of the seat she was leaning against instead.

“Holy shit!” Her gasps of pain filled the back of the vehicle, which quieted quickly. Jughead watched as she sucked a breath in through her gritted teeth. His hand was still gently resting against her thigh.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “like I said. Don’t need you bleeding out in the back of my vehicle.” She nodded her head in jerky movement, eyes closing against the searing pain in her leg.

“When we stop I'm going to need you to lay down right behind the seat,” he explained. “Try to push as far back against the back seat as you can. There's a blanket in the next row up, I'll pass it to you.” He reached over her small body, pulling the scratchy blanket into the back. “When we stop you can cover yourself with it.”

It was silent for a moment, but when she did speak it was so quiet that he could barely tell she was speaking. “Don't worry,” she whispered, “I'm good at disappearing.”

Jughead nodded his head once.  He grabbed the blanket and threw it over her body, leaving only her head exposed. He moved quickly out of the back of the SUV, not daring to look back at her. Her focused gaze was unnerving him, causing him to feel like a million spiders were crawling across his bones under the skin. He rolled his shoulders as he reached up to close the hatch. He glanced down at his arms lowered the large door and saw her staring directly at him. He shivered once more, then slammed the door shut, breaking his gaze from her.

He walked back to his door, opening it and climbing in quickly. He glanced into the rear-view mirror and only saw the top of her blonde head. He looked at his phone briefly, seeing a text from Penny waiting on the screen.

_ Where the hell are you? _

He huffed a small sigh, grabbing the phone and typing out a quick message.

_ I’ll explain where I get there. I’ll be there in 10. _

He put the SUV in gear and pulled out onto the highway again. He set the cruise, letting his mind go on autopilot to the location that was permanently seared into his brain. He deftly took turns and pulled into the warehouse lot as he thought about the blonde in the back.

Jughead parked the vehicle in his usual spot but didn't get out. His hands gripped the wheel and wrung the leather against his palms. He took a deep breath and spoke quietly, trying to move his lips as little as possible.

“Alright, he whispered quietly, knowing that she could hear him even though he couldn't see her, “I'm going to go in. Make sure you stay hidden and stay put. I'm going to make this as quick as possible.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. She didn't answer verbally, but he did see a tiny hand stick up from the trunk, showing him a thumbs up. He almost smiled at the outrageousness of their situation, but immediately quelled the movement of his lips, the gravity of his actions taking hold of him. He shut the SUV off and pocketed the keys.

He exited the vehicle and walked towards the warehouse door, just off to the left of the SUV. He grasped the handle and pulled open the door, breathing in the familiar air.

In the past six months, he had spent his fair share of time within these walls. It took his eyes a moment to adjust the blinding light above him, such a start sharp contrast to the early morning sun outside. As his eyes adjusted he saw crate upon crate, stacked three or four high in places. He never asked Penny what was in all of them, but he knew the contents of some.

They were in the business of illegal handling, Penny always said. In some crates, there were guns of all shapes and sizes. He remembered the first time Sweet Pea had opened a box of the weapons. The Serpent was particularly enamored with guns and his eyes had gone wide at the sight of so many dangerous weapons in one place.

Jughead also knew there was plenty of drugs in the crates as well. In the beginning, it had been his job to deliver these crates, but as he had grown closer to Penny he had been promoted to more than a simple drug mule. Penny has realized that his scrutinizing train of thoughts was perfect for planning out jobs. That was how he spent his time now, planning out jobs and escape routes for the Serpents who were running on jobs.

He walked through the maze of crates and came into a large open area, only a single table sitting in the center. There was a woman standing there, looked down at the papers with a focus that often had Jughead wondering how everything under that gaze didn’t burst into flames.

She was wearing her typical attire: black, close-fitting jeans, a black tank that hugged her curves, with her Serpent jacket layered on top. Her purposefully messy blonde hair was tucked behind her ear, something that she did to keep it out of her face. It was often ineffective, and the blonde tresses would usually escape after a few minutes, which resulted in her running her fingers through her hair on a near constant basis in a weak attempt to tame it.

He walked up to her, the sound of his boots echoing off the tin walls.

“You’re late.” The harshness of her words bounced off Jughead. He reached up to tuck a loose hair behind her ear.

“I’m here, Pen.” He watched as she tore her eyes off the papers in front of her. He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “What are we up to tonight?”

He watched as a smirk ghosted across her features. “Only your favorite.”

Jughead groaned, tossing his head back. “You’re kidding? I got up and drove all the way out here for that?” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to a door off to the side of the main room. She jerked her head towards the door as they stopped in front. He pushed open the door and looked at what was inside.

A middle-aged man sat tied to a chair. His hair was dirty blonde, and he had a severe look, probably due to his comically square jaw. There was a determined look in his eye, but Jughead saw the fear lying just beneath it. His right eye was purpled already, leading Jughead to believe that Penny hadn’t been able to wait for him, an unusual occurrence for her.

“Jesus, Pen. What did this sorry sack ever do to you?” The man in question narrowed his gaze.

Beside him, Penny chuckled darkly. “He tried to doublecross me. Bought some guns and tried to resell them to some Northsiders, but not without substantially upping the price. Isn’t that right, Sunshine?”

The man started to open his mouth, words falling out quickly, “That’s not… I was just trying… I needed the money…” Penny held up a hand, effectively silencing him.

“Well Coop, you should have thought about that before you stepped on a snake’s tail.” Penny motioned for Jughead to enter the room. Jughead took one last look behind him, raising one eyebrow, trying to get a feel for just how much Penny wanted from him.

She answered him smiling, the devilish look in her eyes telling Jughead all he needed to know. He turned back toward the man before him. He took purposeful steps forward, pushing the sleeves up on his leather jacket. He reached up to adjust the grey beanie on his head, pulling it down over his ears snugly.

“Coop, was it?” The man trembled at the dark voice that Jughead used, turning it on like the flick of a switch. Jughead exhaled through his nose as his fist sailed through the air, landing with precision against the man’s cheekbone.

_ “Let me teach you a thing or two about snakes.” _


	2. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thought ran through her mind over and over again.  
>  **Run**

She held her breath as the SUV shook with the slammed door. The parking lot was illuminated for a moment, then cast into darkness again from the opening and closing of the door to the building. She counted her breaths, in and out, in and out, up to ten. With one last inhale, she gathered her nerves and pushed them down, poking her head up over the seat just enough for her to see. Head swiveling from side to side. It didn't look like anybody else was there.

Her heart hammered against her chest and she willed herself to calm down. She glanced down at her leg and watched as her injured thigh shook with nervousness.

She figured it had been about five minutes since he had gone inside, the whole time her mind was racing with thoughts of _how the fuck did I end up here?_

The plan wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be simple. Get in, get him, get out. But he hadn’t been there. She had, in all senses of the word, failed. Then she had been stupid and gotten herself caught, and after that, she couldn’t count the days she had been in that basement.

Then, a saviour, a boy clad in black, with fiery red hair had been sent from what seemed like God himself to save her. She could still remember the sincerity in his eyes when he had said he would help her. The care with which he had planned their escape.

But, when the task was complete, and she was out, not without some cuts and bruises, he hadn’t been there. There had been no sign of him.

Then all hell had broken loose.

Which had led to her sprinting into the woods, hoping that she could outpace her captors, even with her bloodied leg.

Which, in turn, had brought her to the highway, to this vehicle, and this man. She was still trying to make up her mind about him. He seemed genuine, but also rough and there was something about him that screamed danger to her. However, she was in no position to refuse help.

But now here she was, planning yet another escape.

She took one last look around the parking lot, and after deeming it empty and void of human life, she slowly rose up onto her knees, letting the blanket fall off her body onto the floor of the trunk.

Leaning over the next row of seats, she brought her elbows to lean on the cool leather, gently, slowly allowing the rest of her body to follow. When all that was left were her legs, she brought her good leg down and leaned into the seat, slowly lowering her injured leg. She had to squelch a scream when the leg came down faster than she had planned, jarring the cut flesh in a blindingly painful slam.

Teeth dug into soft lips as she tried to hold back tears of anguish. She moved to sit in the seat and slowly opened the backseat door, letting the cold air of the early morning hit her.

_Jughead relished the feeling of bone on bone. He took a moment to look at his own fist, the knuckles broke open and bloodied, whether most of the blood was his own or the other man’s was lost on him._

_His stomach twisted painfully with guilt, but he pushed it down with another swing of his arm._

She ran as quickly as her legs would carry her around to the back of the building. The fence that she had seen in front turned out to circle the entire lot, but she would rather take her chances back here than face the highway again. She knew this compound was surrounded by forest if only she could get out past the fence.

She started to wind her way past heaps of rusted junk, the flannel on her leg becoming more and more painful that farther she got. Finally she leaned against an old piece of rusted machinery. She used her fingers to gingerly move the cloth away from her skin and was pleasantly greeted with the sight of less blood. The cut was still weeping, but nowhere near the amount of blood that there had been earlier.

_“Alright, Jug. I think that’s enough.” Jughead tried to swing one last time, but his fist was stopped by another hand, smaller than his own. He glanced quickly to the side, his hair jerking with the movement, one long black curl resting on his forehead, stuck there with his own perspiration._

_“Seriously. Enough.” The look in her eyes made him angry more than anything. She had created this monster, and it refused to be stopped._

She took the knot and untied it, letting the flannel fall to the ground. As she looked up she spotted what she had been looking for. A gate. She hobbled over to it, one hand pressed against her injured thigh. She tried pressing on the gate with her free hand, but it wouldn’t budge from all the garbage behind it.

She took a step back, placed both hands on the gate, and pushed with all her remaining energy. The gate opened just wide enough for her to slip through, but her relief was short lived. Out in front of the building, she heard the revving of an engine, and her heart clenched so tight that she thought she might fall over.

One thought ran through her mind over and over again.

**Run.**

_He washed the blood from his knuckles, watching the red disappear down the drain. The look in Penny's eyes haunting him still. He couldn't understand what was happening to him._  

_He used to dread coming to the warehouse. He used to hate committing the acts that Penny asked him to do. And now she was the one holding him back. She had groomed him for this, trained him to be the weapon that she needed. So why did it feel like she regretted what she had created? Sometimes the only time he felt in control was when he was entirely out of control._

She ran as fast as her injured leg would allow. Pushing through the underbrush, jumping over fallen trees. Sharp branches scratched at her face and pulled at her clothes, making it feel as though even Mother Nature herself was working against her.

She hadn’t gotten more than four hundred yards away from the compound before she got cocky. Her leg was numb, and in her desperate attempt to escape she sailed over a fallen tree, her toe catching on a branch that had stretched out to the sky. It stopped her dead in her tracks, causing her to fall headfirst, barely giving her enough time to get her arms out in front of her to brace herself for the impact. She hit the ground hard, the breath leaving her chest in one heave. She lay there, face in the dirt, gasping for air.

Reaching her hand down to feel her thigh, she was met with the slick wetness of blood again. She looked to the side at the fuzzy forest in front of her, all of the edges blurred as if she had put in contacts with the wrong prescription. She vaguely wondered to herself exactly how hard she had hit her head. She could hear voices yelling in the distance but couldn't seem to make her self care. In fact, she couldn't even remember why she was running in the first place. All she could focus on was how warm she felt on the ground in the sunshine and how nice it was not be scared for a moment.

* * *

Jughead walked out into the brisk morning air as the sun started to rise. He rolled his shoulders back, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and gave them a quick flick.

He scanned the compound lot as he walked back to his SUV. He walked up to the door, quickly opening it and hopped in.

“Blondie?” He reached over his shoulder to grab the seatbelt, his eyes darting to the rear-view mirror. When he received no answer his hand stilled, the seatbelt positioned over his chest, his hand faltering in its movements.

Jughead listened for a few heart-wrenching seconds realizing that she must have left. He let go of the seatbelt, letting the leather coil back inside the vehicle. He turned to the window, ready to jump out when he came face to face with a man. Jughead froze in time, his hand halfway to the door handle.

The man in front of him was watching him carefully, his brown eyes hard. Jughead moved to roll down the glass separating them. 

“Malachi.” The name slipped off Jughead’s tongue like poison. He took in the man’s appearance. His hair was disheveled and flopped across his forehead. It didn’t look soft like

Jughead’s own hair, but seemed to entangle it’s own tresses and resulted in his entire head looking like a mop.

He had tattoos up his neck and his eyes were as dark as Jughead knew his soul to be. He was the leader of the Ghoulie’s, the rival gang to the Serpents.

They lacked gusto in every way. Disorganized, no real vision, no real leader. In the gang world, they were the bottom of the totem pole. The lowest of the low.

Jughead tried his best to look calm. Not because Malachi scared him, Jughead had won more than one fight against the Ghoulie’s leader. Jughead briefly remembered their last altercations.

It had started with Malachi hitting on Toni, another lady Serpent, and had ended with Malachi’s cheek being busted open. Say what you want about Jughead Jones, but he stood up for his family.

“Jonesy, long time no see.” Malachi drew his fingers across his cheek, no doubt recalling the same memory of their last meeting.

“What do you want, Malachi? You’re a little far out of your cemetery aren’t you?” Jughead watched as the man flinched at the insult. It was a well-known fact that the Ghoulies hated their bar, Cemetery. It was, for lack of a better word, a shithole. The rivalry gang had originally owned The Whyte Wyrm, but there had been a massive turf battle back when Jughead’s dad was a kid.

“I'm looking for a girl.” Jughead scoffed at the greasy way that Malachi's words dripped from his mouth. Especially when he was talking about women.

“I pity the girl you're looking for.” Jughead sniped.  Malachi sneered at the words, his hatred for the blue-eyed Serpent evident on his face.

“Oh, believe me, Jones, I'm not looking for her for that. In fact, that's probably the last thing that she's going to be begging for when I find her.”

Jughead scowled at Malachi's words. “That’s just about your style, isn’t it big boy? It’s not like you could actually get a girl to sleep with you fair and square.”

Jughead watched as Malachi’s hands came through the window and grabbed onto his jacket.

His laughter rang clear and true through the parking lot as Malachi slammed his body against the door panel, knowing the sound of his laughter would only work the Ghoulie up more.

“Watch what you say, Jonesy. You know, Topaz isn’t looking half bad these days. Maybe I’ll go pay her a visit.” Jughead narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. His words escaped through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low.

“You touch Toni or any of my Serpents for that matter, and I will show you all my new tricks.”

Malachi’s laughter sang out in the morning sunlight. “Promises, promises Jones. Too bad you’re not enough of a dick to follow through.”

Jughead was raising his fist, hoping that he would be able to connect it with Malachi’s cheek again before the Ghoulie could stop him. Then there was a sound that stopped both of them dead in their tracks.

It was the unmistakable click of a handgun being cocked. Malachi looked to his left and saw Penny staring at him down the barrel of her small revolver.

Jughead smirked at the dumbfounded look on Malachi's face. The Ghoulie wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a gun.

“Boys, Boys, boys,” Penny said, her voice gliding smoothly from her mouth. “Why can't you just learn to get along?”

“Penny.” Jughead hated the way her name sounded in Malachi’s mouth. The sound alone made him want to rip and tear and smash everything around him. “Have any hot date’s lately, you know, we miss you down at Cemetery. Remember the last time you were there?”

Jughead began to see red, knowing very well the last time Penny was at Cemetery was when he had come to bail her out of its basement, her body left broken and bloodied by the man in front of her.

Jughead watched as Penny’s face contorted itself into a sneer. “I don't think I’ll be coming around anytime soon Malachi. If you don't remember, the last time I was there I was treated none too kindly.”

Malachi chuckled darkly in response. “Count yourself lucky that your little garter snake here came to your rescue.”

“It has nothing to do with luck. Snakes look after their own. Period.” The two stared each other down, neither wanting to be the one to back down first. Jughead sighed and quickly brought his hands to Malachi’s chest, pushing the man away from himself. He got out of the SUV in a flash, not wanting to leave himself vulnerable again.

His movement snapped both Penny and Malachi out of their stare down. Jughead moved to stand beside Penny, crossing his arms over his chest.

Penny reset her stance, bringing her arms up in front of her from where they had fallen at Jughead’s sudden movement.

“Malachi, I think it’s just about time for you to be going.” Penny’s voice didn’t leave room for argument. Jughead cracked his knuckles, itching for Malachi to make a move. He hadn’t had a good fight in over a month. Instead, Malachi scoffed and shook his head.

Jughead watched as Malachi turned his back to them, heading back to the car that Jughead hadn’t noticed earlier. He knew his mind had been preoccupied but he knew it was stupid of him to miss the cherry red 1969 Chevy Camaro. He needed to be more careful and to keep his mind in the present. His father often told him that his daydreaming was going to get him killed. Only this time he hadn’t been daydreaming. He had been thinking about a blonde woman bleeding out in the back of his SUV.

Jughead felt more so than heard the rumble of the car as it started. He snorted as the Ghoulie rolled down his window, elbow resting on the door as he drove away, flipping them both off as he went. Jughead flicked his gaze quickly back to Penny.

“Anything else?” His voice was soft, barely heard over screeching of the Camaro racing off down the road. Penny turned to look at him.

“Not right now. You know I'll call you if I need you.” Penny walked away, moving to get into her own vehicle, a black car, sleek and fast.

Jughead felt his stomach twist at those words. He profoundly knew that whenever Penny needed anything he was her first call. He knew that she made it look like blackmail was the reason she kept calling, but he knew the truth.

In a word full of liars and criminals, he was her only ally. Her only confidant. She needed him more than she needed any single other person in their operation. It was the main reason why he stayed. He could have left, a long time ago. He had an escape plan to get him and his dad out of here if need be. Fake passports, a stolen getaway car, new plates, the whole deal.

But he couldn’t leave. The power given to him by running the Serpents was intoxicating. He felt like he had finally figured out his place in life. All through high school he had felt like a loner, a nobody. Sure, he had Sweet Pea and Joaquin, but they had joined the Serpents early, each of them barely fourteen when they had run the gauntlet. Jughead was one of the oldest born-in Serpent's to have joined in the gang’s history. Most kids who were legacies joined at the age of thirteen, as early as the gang would allow.

* * *

  _He wanted to get out of Riverdale. Had wanted an escape. The moment he graduated he moved to New York. He had saved up from working at the local diner, Pop Tate’s Chock’lit Shoppe and he moved into a small apartment he’d found on Craigslist._

_He’d only been in the city for about a month when everything turned itself upside down. Looking back, he should have known something would go wrong. He wasn’t destined to live a happy ending. He never had been._

_He was working at a press company as the mailboy, working at Starbucks in the evenings and on weekends to make ends meet. His Serpent jacket had been shoved into the back of his closet, a parting gift from his father. An invitation to come back if he ever felt the urge._

_He received the call when he was at work, delivering mail to the people in cubicles surrounding him. He had felt his cell phone go off but knew better than to take it out on company time. He needed this job. The next thing he knew, he was being called to the receptionist’s desk. He remembered the feeling of surprise that had quickly turned into dread._

_He remembered getting to the desk and taking the outstretched phone from the woman. He remembered the exact words spoken to him by one of his best friends since childhood._

**“Jughead? It’s your dad. He’s in jail. You need to come home. Now.”**

_The rest of the day came to him in blurred memories. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten back to his apartment, or how he had managed to pack up his entire life in less than an hour. He recalled throwing boxes into the back of his truck, with the help of his roommate, shoving next month’s rent into the other man's hands, apologizing profusely at having to skip out on such short notice._

_He had raced the whole way back to Riverdale, not slowing down until he got to The Whyte Wyrm, bursting his way through the front door. He didn’t stop until he came face to face with the boy-turned-man who had been on the other end of the phone call._

_“Sweet Pea, what the hell happened?” The tall man had just stared at the floor, remorse radiating off of him._

_“We messed up, Jughead. We got too deep into a job and FP took the fall.”_

* * *

He shook his head, trying to clear away the unwelcome thoughts of his hasty return to Riverdale. That had been two years ago. He was older now, smarter. He knew he could never leave Riverdale again. 

Jughead walked to the back of the SUV, opening the large door there. His heart dropped through his stomach when he saw what was waiting for him there.

Nothing. No girl, just a blanket waiting where he had left her.

_Stupid._ He thought to himself. _So fucking stupid._

Without thinking he ran to Penny’s car, banging on the window with a closed fist. Her head jerked, breaking her gaze from her phone. She rolled down the window, a scowl obvious on her face.

“What the hell, Jug? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Shut up.” Her scowl deepened at the demand. “I need your help, Pen. There was a girl this morning, on the highway. I picked her up and she was hurt. That’s why I tried to cancel on you. So I could take her to hospital. She was in the SUV but now she’s gone. You have to help me look for her.” His words all came out in a rush, jumbling together as they fell from his mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You picked up a girl this morning? Off the highway?” Jughead slammed his hand down on the roof of her car, causing Penny to jump and gasp. 

“Pen! I don’t have time to play twenty questions. She is out there and she is going to fucking die if I don’t find her. Jesus,” he rubbed a hand down his face. “I told her I wouldn’t be long. She probably thought I forgot about her and bailed.”

“Alright Juggie,” Penny’s voice was soft, coaxing him to calm down without actually saying the words. “Let’s go make a loop around the compound. She can’t have gone far.”

The compound was large with a tall chain link fence surrounding it. It had once been a meat packing Factory but had run out of business ages ago. The Serpent's had purchased the building while Jughead had been in New York.

Jughead set out to go East around the compound, watching Penny head her way West. He walked closer to the fence but kept his gaze swiveling around him. His eyes took in the various pieces of junk that have been left at the compound for as long as he had been there. Old bits of factory machinery and pallets lay scattered everywhere.

It wasn't quite what he would consider a junkyard because the Serpent's kept it maintained. But they couldn't just go and throw out all this factory machinery without raising suspicion, so as a result most of it stayed on the premises.

He came to the first corner of the compound lot and made a left turn, continuing to follow the fence. The back of the compound started to come into view. Here there was more junk and rusted scrap metal. There was some motorcycle bits and pieces that had been dumped here by various Serpents. The compound wasn't huge, but it was large enough that he was grateful Penny was there to help him in his search.

The blonde could have been passed out amongst the rubbish and having an extra set of eyes made him feel like the task wasn't as impossible. He waded his way through the piles of trash, keeping his eyes out for that reflective platinum blonde hair that he had seen earlier that morning. Instead, his eyes were drawn to something red. As he walked he realized in fear that it was his plaid shirt. She must have taken it off and cast it aside in her attempt to escape.

He wondered to himself why she would want to escape. She had bleeding so much, losing way too much blood to make sound decisions. He mentally kicked himself for leaving her alone at all in the first place. He had known when he walked into the compound that she was in no state to make decisions or to even be left alone.

He should have taken her to the hospital. But now he was out looking for her instead of following his gut.

He met Penny about halfway through the yard, watching as she also sifted through the piles of trash, looking for the girl that she had never seen before. It was at this moment that Jughead felt the camaraderie between them again. Even though his brain immediately rejected the thought, his heart swelled at the sight of Penny. Right now, she was the closest thing to a best friend that he had.

As he got closer to her he looked up into her eyes, raising one eyebrow, asking her without speaking the question he so desperately wanted an answer for, _had she seen anything?_ But he knew by the look on her face that if she had seen anything she would have told him.

Jughead’s heart sank even deeper into his chest, watching Penny’s ever-alert eyes take in their surroundings. Her gaze locked on something to the right of him and he looked up to see what she was staring at so intensely. His eyes found what she was staring at so hard. The gate, which they always kept closed, was slightly open. Penny jerked her head in the direction of the gate, quickly making her way to inspect, with Jughead hot on her heels. He made his way to the back and noticed that not only was it push open slightly but that there were red streaks of blood on the post.

Jugheads stomach clenched so hard inside him he almost had to bend over at the pain. Now he had concrete evidence that she had been here, she had still been bleeding, and that she had left the compound, making his chances of finding her that much slimmer.

He felt more than saw Penny’s presence beside him. “She left. She left the compound. And now she's out in the woods all by herself.”

Penny shot him a quizzical look. “Jug, I know that you've got this whole hero complex where you need to make sure that everybody's fine all the time. But she is a girl that you picked up off the side of the road who was profusely bleeding. Have you ever thought that maybe there's a reason why she was bleeding? That maybe she got herself mixed up in something that you don't want to be a part of?”

“Pen, I drove all the way out here at God-knows-what time in the morning to come and help you beat the shit out of some man who double-crossed you over something as stupid as a gun. The least you can do is help me find her. I mean, Jesus Christ, I still have blood crusted on my knuckles from the guy's face.” The anger radiated through him again, coursing through his veins.

Penny shook her head and glanced at the ground, but Jughead knew he had her. For as long as they’d known each other Penny always, as much as she likes to pretend that she was a tough ass, always did the right thing. The right thing might not have always been legal and it might not have always been considered the right thing by Jughead, but she looked out for her own and right now Jughead needed her and he knew she would help him.

The blonde huffed out a sigh. “All right then, let's go.” she drawled, her voice showing boredom. “Does this mystery girl have a name?”

Jughead paused in astonishment as he realized that no, he didn't know the girl's name. He had called her Blondie for the entire 15 minutes they had been in the vehicle together.

Penny must have seen this realization cross his face because again she scoffed, crossed her arms in disbelief and cocked one blonde eyebrow at him. “Seriously, Jug? Not even a name? Nothing.” She threw her hands up towards the sky in exasperation. “How are we supposed to find this girl?”

Suddenly he felt all the frustration in his bones come to the surface. “I don't know Penny!” he shouted. “But we need to get the fuck moving. The longer we wait the farther she gets. That is _if_ she's still walking. Just shout Blondie, I don't know, hopefully she'll recognize they we’re trying to look for her and help her.”

Penny's mouth gaped open and the disbelief was coursing off of her body. “I cannot believe I'm helping you do this. This is the stupidest thing that you've ever asked me to do. And all for some girl that you don't even know.”

Before Jughead could respond she stomped her way through the gate pushing it open hard to fight against the refuge that was behind it. Jughead followed her, silently thanking her without saying the words.

“Alright you start heading West and I'll head back East. Try to make a zigzag pattern. I don't know that's what I've always seen search parties in movies do. And no, I do not need to hear any sarcastic remarks. I don't exactly know what to do in these kinds of situations, Pen.”

Jughead’s doubts were mostly due to the fact that Penny was now smirking at him. Which was definitely not helping.

As he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Penny, while still laughing at him, was starting to make her way away from him. He called out into the open air, “Try taking about a hundred steps and then turning back. Make sure you're looking in all directions.”

The resounding answer was a shouted, “Thanks, Captain!” that sounded far too sarcastic for it to be sincere, followed by something muttered that Jughead just couldn't quite hear. Although he assumed that it was probably some slur that insinuated how stupid she thought he was being.

Mentally, Jughead counted out to one hundred, all the while keeping his head on a swivel, looking around in all directions. “Blondie!” he called out, “Blondie! Are you out there?”

Any ridiculousness that he felt at not knowing the girl's name, was squashed by the fear that she was out here alone and in most definitely bad shape. When he reached his first count of one hundred he took one last wide, sweeping glance around the area and then started heading back in towards the compound at an angle. Again, he turned his head back and forth, looking for any sign of her. He knew she was wearing black and that would make her so much harder to find, but he held out hope that her blonde hair would be enough to separate her from the dark brush surrounding them.

He could hear Penny's voice in the distance calling out for the blonde girl. And again he thanked whatever force there was above that he had somebody who would help him. If he had had to do this on his own it would have seemed almost impossible.

He kept walking back towards where he had split up from Penny, seeing her come into view through the thick brush. She was walking quickly, all business now, as her blonde-haired darted in and out between trees.

He trained his eyes back on the ground, not wanting to look at Penny and miss something that might have been below his feet. He reached Penny in the middle and gave her a questioning look.

She gave him a withering look in response. “Don't be stupid,” she grated, “if I saw something don't you think I would have said something? Let's keep going.” And with that, she pivoted on her toe and headed back out into the trees.

He did the same, hoping that the way that they were searching was effective, that they would find her. His heart clenched, hoping among all hopes that the blonde had headed straight out from the compound North instead of going out to the sides where they were not sweeping.

Jughead has started counting his paces again calling out intermittently, “Blondie!”

“Blondie, are you there?”

“Blondie can you hear me?”

And one last, frustrated, “Come on Blondie, say something!”

It was with that last call, his frustration pouring out of his body, making its way into his words, that he heard a soft voice to his left. He paused halting the crunch of leaves under his feet and the snapping of twigs.

“Blondie?” He remained completely silent, concentrating intently on all the sounds around him.

Then, like a whisper from Heaven above itself, he heard a thin voice call out, “I'm over here.”

He abandoned his angular route to the East and started heading straight North, towards the sound, rapidly looking from side to side, searching for her blonde hair. He didn't have to look far and he his heart soared at the sight of her blonde hair.

Any relief he felt at hearing her voice though, was squelched when he actually saw her. She was face down in the dirt. Jughead dropped to his knees, his brain not even registering the jarring pain of branches and twigs beneath his legs. He paused before touching her looking for any signs of breathing. He listened closely, relief flooding his body when he heard a ragged breath leave her mouth.

His body woke back to life as he heard her breathing. Breaking from his stillness and grabbing her shoulders gently, he flipped her over onto her back. He stood back up and looked around wildly for Penny.

“Penny! I found her, get over here!” He shouted as loud as his voice would let him, but it was clouded with fear. In the distance, he could hear Penny crashing through the woods, making her way towards his voice. He crouched back down in an instant and took two fingers, placing them gently under her chin. His heart raced when he found that he couldn't find the pulse he was looking for right away. Not for the first time, he wondered just exactly how long they had. When he finally found her pulse it was weak and it pushed heart into overdrive.

He couldn't explain to himself why he cared so much. This was a random girl that he had found in the most random of instances. The chances of him actually finding her on the highway were one in a million. And yet he had. Jughead wasn't one to believe in destiny or fate, and it was no coincidence that he had found her on the highway this morning. And even though he rejected the idea that Penny thought he had a hero complex, he knew he had to help this woman.

He looked back down at the blonde and observed her a little further. Her face, which had been pale before, was now a ghastly gray color. Her lips were blue from the loss of blood. He grabbed the hole in her jeans that he knew was positioned right above the cut in her thigh. He ripped open the whole enough to properly assess the damage.

What he saw made his stomach churn.

The blood painted her skin, marring the porcelain flesh, but that wasn't the worst part. He quickly rubbed his hand across the skin, forgetting all pretenses of shyness, and wiped the blood off as best he could. He encountered more of the same bruises that she had on her arms, making him wonder again _what in the hell had happened to this woman?_

He listened as a tiny groan escaped her lips, her eyelashes fluttering for the briefest of seconds. He clenched his fists beside him, bracing himself for what he would have to do next.

Penny came crashing up next to him, dropping to her knees beside the small blonde’s body.

“Holy shit, Jug.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as she took in the other girl’s beaten body and the blood on Jughead’s hands.

“We got to get her to a hospital, Pen.” Jughead’s voice was soft, his natural leadership shining through the panic he felt within.

“Ok.” Jughead shoulders tightened as a hand gripped onto his arm. He followed the fingers back up to Penny's body, the look in her eyes could only be described as sincere. Jughead slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the keys to his vehicle.

“Run ahead.” his voice was rough like leather now, the Serpent leader in him taking over, “Get the SUV running.”

She nodded her head sharply, grabbing the keys, In a flash, she shot up and took off at a dead sprint through the forest. He could just see the back of the factory through the trees, the dense brush blocking most of his view. He watched Penny run until he lost sight of her then turned back to the woman at his feet.

Jughead sighed, conflict tearing through his body. He knew he was going to have to move her and knew that it would hurt her whether or not she was passed out.

For the second time that day Jughead found himself placing one arm behind the blonde’s back and another underneath her knees. She was small but sturdy. He hiked her body up to his chest bringing one foot to plant on the ground and using it to push himself up to his full height.

A small grumble carried up to his ears, and his heart pounded with the evidence that, while she was obviously hurt badly, was still conscious.

He started to walk in the direction of the warehouse, being mindful of the underbrush beneath his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was trip and send the injured girl flying from his arms. She jostled slightly back and forth as he walked and he clenched her tighter to his chest, trying to keep her as still as possible.

The added pressure must have alerted something in her body because at that moment her eyes flew open, pupils zeroing in on Jughead's face.

The bright green shade caught his breath in his chest. That morning in the vehicle had been too dark to really get a look at her features. But now in the daylight, her blonde hair was like golden straw. All of her features were tiny and petite, but it was her eyes that struck him most. A dazzling emerald green that sent shock wave after shock wave of brilliance, almost as if they were emanating light themselves.

Jughead could only imagine what they looked like when she hadn't lost half of the blood in her body and it was with that thought he brought himself back to reality and kept walking through the woods. As he walked he felt her red hot gaze on him.

“You are an idiot,” he muttered and then mentally kicked himself for not censoring his thoughts.

She shook in his arms and when he looked down he realized that she was laughing at him.

A scowl permeated across his face. She giggled even harder at this.

“What kind of dick… Insult someone… Who can't fight back?” she breathed back in response.

Jughead tilted his head at the absurdity of her sentence. And the absurdity of his statement. He barely knew this girl. She was right. Who was he to start throwing insults at her. Truth be told he had thought that she was asleep or passed out again and didn't think that she would have the energy or the strength to answer back. The fight in this woman absolutely mesmerized him. What scared him more than anything, though, was the laughter. Jughead wasn’t an idiot, and he might not know a lot about medical care, but he knew what shock looked like, and it looked as though she had finally hit her threshold of what her body and mind could take.

He was eager to keep her talking, to keep her alert. He knew enough about shock to know that it was a slippery slope and could be fatal if her body decided that it was in too much distress to keep functioning properly. “Why would you run?” he questioned, asking the question he had been labouring over since he had realized she had tried to run.

She gave a breathy sigh again. “M’kinda a lone wolf,” There was a pregnant pause between them. “and to be fair… I have no reason to trust you.”

Jughead scoffed out a half chuckle. “Well, I think that's fair enough. Hopefully, you can trust me long enough to get you stitched up.”

Before Jughead had even finished his sentence he felt a vice grip on his arm. His step faltered as he looked down at the girl in his arms. Her eyes were wide with fear pupils, dilated fully as if she had seen a ghost.

“No! No hospitals, you can't take me to a hospital.” Her voice quaked, tugging at Jughead's sympathy.

“You need some kind of medical attention, you've lost too much blood, and that gash in your leg isn't going to heal up on its own.”

She started shaking her head violently, causing her body to shift around in Jughead's arms.

“Hey, it's going to be alright - “

“They'll find me.” She whispered, almost too quietly for Jughead to hear.

His heart hammered, beating against the cage of his ribs. “Who's going to find you? “

He held her gaze, feeling the heat of her gaze on his skin, burning him alive.

She held his gaze for a moment and shook her head once. Jughead sighed under his breath and broke the tether between them, looking up ahead again. He knew he wasn't going to get any more information out of her.

Her grip on his arm lessened lightly and he continued walking through the brush, coming up to the edge of the compound.

He saw that some of the trash had been cleared away from the gate and it was pushed open enough for him to slip through. He said a silent thank you to Penny. Even in times of panic, she was a practical thinker.

He wound his way through the stacks of scrap, avoiding outstretched metal from grabbing at their clothing.

He was walking carefully, trying to keep her still when he felt the body in his arms go slack, adding a noticeable amount of deadweight.

He looked down in panic and felt his heart clench in fear at the sight before him. The blondes head was tilted back at an in comfortable angle, her mouth slightly open. Her eyes didn't flutter, her skin was almost translucent at the loss of blood.

“Shit” he muttered to himself, picking up his pace, almost breaking into a dead sprint.

“Penny!” he shouted. “Start the fucking car!” He rounded the last corner and saw Penny lounging in the driver's seat, door open, feet resting on the door. She dropped her legs down at the sight of Jughead's face.

She started to descend from the vehicle, but he stopped her before she could make it any farther. “You're driving. Open the back door.”

Without hesitation, Penny stepped down, grabbed the back door and ripped it open. Jughead clambered in, forgoing all semblance of carefulness the moment the girl had passed out. Once he was in, Penny slammed the door and Jughead watched as she hopped into the driver's seat.

“Where are we going?” Penny spat the words out, and Jughead couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the woman. Her ability to be calm in times of crisis was an innate skill of hers, and he had never appreciated it as much as he did at that moment.

“The Whyte Wyrm.” He tried to put as much confidence into his voice as he could. He hoped he was making the right decision by respecting the blonde’s wishes.

Penny turned in her seat, disbelief etched into her face. “What the fu-”

“Now, Penny!” He left no room for argument in his voice.

Penny swiveled to face forward again, slamming her foot into the brake and jamming the gear shift into drive.

Jughead held the blonde tightly as Penny paused for a moment at the gate, then hammered on to the accelerator, jerking the passengers into their seats.

Jughead eased the blonde's legs into the seat beside him, continuing to support her head by keeping it in his lap.

He reached a hand forward and lightly flicked his hand against Penny's shoulder. She glanced over the shoulder, a million questions in her eyes.

“Pass me my phone.” She reached into the cupholder and extracted Jughead's cell phone, passing it back over her shoulder for the black haired man to take.

His hands shook as his fingers started to dial the one person he knew could help.

He held the phone to his ear, feeling the emptiness of the dial tone ring through his chest. The person on the other end picked up and Jughead let loose a sigh of relief.

_Dad? I need your help_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter! Hit me up on tumblr if you wanna chat!
> 
> crescentmoonmadness.tumblr.om


	3. Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“My friend from the Northside? The one whose friend is missing? That’s her.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported me, whether that be by leaving comments, throwing a kudos my way, or following me on Tumblr. I really appreciate all the support and love you guys have given me!

Jughead burst through the front door of the Whyte Wyrm, kicking open the door with a combat boot. The regular cacophony of noise that filled the bar was silenced as the leather-clad patrons watched their fearless leader push through the door with the body of a girl in his arms. The bar didn't stay silent for long though as Jughead’s voice broke through it.

“What are you standing around for! Get F.P. and clear off a table!” No sooner had the words left his mouth did the men spring to action around him.

A tall man with jet black hair cleared a table with papers on it in one quick swipe of his arms, the papers fluttering to the ground around him. “Jughead!” his voice rumbled deep in his chest, “Over here!”

Jughead quickly made his way over to the man and gently laid the blonde down on the table, her body flopping limply against the wood. “Jacket.”

The man took off his leather jacket without question, exposing shoulders and arms that were littered with tattoos. Jughead grabbed the leather roughly, balling it up.

“Lift her head.” he barked out. The other man did as he was told and gently raised the blonde’s head up off the table, allowing Jughead to swiftly put the leather jacket underneath her. He watched as the tall Serpent lowered her head carefully onto the soft leather

Jughead looked around wildly for his father. Penny was standing just off to the right of him, hovering behind his shoulder, watching the whole scene unfold. Penny's fingers twitched and clenched in and out, nervous energy permeating the air around her. Penny was the calm one. She didn't get nervous and she didn't fidget. 

Behind him, Jughead heard heavy boots descending the staircase that led up to the office. Jughead breathed a sigh of relief as his father came fully into view. The relief didn’t last long though, familiar feelings of annoyance rising up in Jughead. He heart thumped in time to his father’s steps, watching the cocky confidence roll off the older man. 

The black serpent jacket hung loosely off the man’s shoulders and was layered with dark jeans and a gray henley. He wore a self-assured smirk as he came to stand at the head of the table, looking appraisingly down at the scene before him. 

“Christ, Jug.” He whistled low. Jughead clenched his jaw as he waited for the man in front of him to do something, anything, helpful. Jughead was about to speak up when F.P. barked sharply, “Everyone out!” 

If Jughead thought he was a respected leader of the Serpents, it was nothing compared to the reaction F.P. got from the men and women around them at that moment. There was no questioning, no dawdling. Jughead followed the patrons with his eyes as they exited the Wyrm quickly. 

“Pea, Penny, and Jug. You guys stay back.” There was no room for questions or clarification. The three younger Serpents stood at attention, awaiting their orders.

F.P. did one last sweeping glance of the room, making sure that there were no stragglers hanging around. He clapped his hands once loudly, causing Jughead to jump back, and rubbed his hands in anticipation. 

“Pea, first aid kit. Behind the bar.” The tall man who had given up his jacket earlier marched over to the bar, disappearing behind the counter for a moment before popping back up, a white kit in his hands now. He walked back quickly, handing over the kit to Jughead.

“Alright Jug, scissors first.” F.P. declared holding his hand out, palm up. Jughead opened the two latched and grabbed the scissors from where they were resting on the top of all the supplies, passing them handle first to his father. 

F.P. took them gently and without a hesitation walked to the bottom of the table, inserted half the scissors inside the blonde’s pant leg so that one blade was outside and one blade was nestled inside. He started making quick, confident snips up the leg of the blonde’s jeans. As he cut, Jughead continued to take supplies out and lay them across the top of the table above the blonde’s head.

F.P. slowed down the closer he got to where the gash was and took great care when he finally did reach the wound. Some of the jean material had adhered to the outside of the cut from the dried blood and Jughead watched as his father carefully cut away the material high up into the top of the blonde side and gently peeled it back.

Jughead clenched his jaw as he watched the denim pull at the skin, causing the slashed skin to gape open wider. “We have to clean up this blood,” F.P’s voice was sure and steady, calming the most rampant parts of Jughead’s brain. Jughead rummaged through the first aid kit, finally pulling out an antibacterial wipe. He was about to open the package when his father made a sharp clicking sound with his tongue. Jughead looked up from the small package in his hands and saw his father’s disapproving look.

“Unless you want her to get an infection, boy, I would suggest you don't touch that.” F.P. jerked his gaze down to Jughead’s hands, causing Jughead’s eyes to follow. There was blood dried and crusted into every wrinkle and crack in his skin. 

“Go wash them. You’re not getting your hands in here until then.” F.P’s voice was firm, not to be questioned.

Jughead stomach clenched at the thought leaving the blonde on the table surrounded by people that she didn't know and wouldn't recognize if she came to. He quickly rushed to the sink that was situated behind the bar, pouring soap over his hands and running water over them quickly. 

He moved to walk back to the three of them as F.P. called out, “Vodka.”

Jughead’s permascowl deepened and he let out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe leave the celebratory drinks for after, Dad.” He couldn't help the sarcasm that leaked into his voice is his as he spoke.

“It's not for me, you idiot, it's for her. Stop talking back and get the fucking bottle.” Jughead’s jaw clenched even harder, which he didn’t think was possible. He was grateful that his father had ordered everyone to leave. He didn’t relish the thought of the other Serpent’s hearing him being spoken to so disrespectfully. 

Jughead grabbed the bottle of the liquor from behind the bar and walked purposefully back up to their impromptu operating table.

When he got back he saw that F.P. and Penny had cleaned up the outside area of the wound, discarded bloodied wipes littering the area around the blonde’s body. Jughead briefly wondered how they could have cleaned up so much blood so quickly as he passed the alcohol to his father.

The dried blood was all gone now but instead of making Jughead feel better, it just made him feel sicker. Now that the blood was not disguising the wound, Jughead could see how truly bad it was. The cut was so deep he was surprised he couldn't see bone through it.

F.P. roughly grabbed the bottle from Jughead, the liquid sloshing around noisily inside. Without looking away from the wound, F.P. opened the bottle and brought it up to his lips, slugging back a shot. He shot Jughead a wink as he lowered the bottle.

Before Jughead could sling an insult at his father, the older man spoke confidently to Sweet Pea, “Alright, Pea. Come around to the top of the table.” Sweet Pea walked to the table’s head without hesitation, looking to F.P. for further instruction. 

“Put your hands on her shoulders and hold her down. If this doesn't wake her up then the needle sure as fuck will.”

Jughead looked at his father in alarm, stretching out an arm in a vain attempt to protect the woman laying on the table. “What's going to wake her - ”

Before Jughead could finish his sentence, his father was taking the bottle of vodka and dumping the clear liquid over the wound, letting the liquor slosh over the expanse of her thigh. 

F.P. had been right about the struggling. As soon as the liquor made its way into the cut, the blonde’s eyes jerked open for the first time since they had been since they had left the forest.

Her shoulders came up briefly, hands planting on the table as she tried to pull herself into a sitting position but Sweet Pea was ready and, as gently as possible, guided her shoulders back down onto the table, pinning her there.

The sound that escaped her mouth Jughead could only describe as animalistic. He had never heard another human scream like that, in a way that made chill after chill run down his spine. 

It was his father’s voice that snapped him back to the moment, “Boy!” The bark was harsh and urgent, conveying all the curtness that F.P. usually tried to hold back. “Grab her leg, hold it down.”

Jughead nodded once, moving to the bottom of the table. His stomach twisted and coiled around inside him, like a restless snake waiting to strike. He watched his hands curl around her ankle and pull the leg straight, felt that leg kick against his grip, but he couldn’t connect those actions back to himself.  _ This isn’t me. _ Jughead thought back to what he had been doing that morning upon Penny’s request and felt the bile raise up in his stomach.

A different thought now raced through his mind.  _ When did this become me?  _ He moved to keep one hand on her ankle and press the other against her knee, trying to stabilize it as much as possible. 

Jughead’s thoughts chased each other around in his head and he watched his father get out the needle and suture thread. His father took the needle and guided it through the skin with an air of expertise. 

_ I wanted to leave, I did leave. _

F.P. pushed the needle through the soft flesh again, the light above them glittering off the metallic item.

_ I came back for him.  _

Another stitch, perfectly placed. 

_ He didn’t need me to come back, he never needed me.  _

Five stitches now, all evenly spaced. 

_ And now I’m stuck here. _

The thoughts continued to slam into Jughead with such ferocity and consistency that he was surprised he was preventing himself from flinching with each one. His father pulled the last suture through the skin as one last thought echoed through him. 

_ I will never leave here.  _

And that thought left him so hopeless that the ice started to slink through his veins again, filling him up in every artery as it went. He could feel the raw emotions he had been feeling retreat into the back of his mind, and for once, he was grateful for the ice. 

When he looked back up at his father, the look of fear had disappeared, replaced with vacancy and darkness. F.P. let go of a breath with such gusto that it looked as if he had been holding it the whole time the needle had been in his hand. 

Jughead had noticed that somewhere along the line the blonde had passed out again, whether it had been from the pain or the overwhelming situation around her he couldn’t be sure. Now she lay under the orange-yellow light, hair spread around her head in fits of curls and tangles, breathing heavily. Jughead intently watched her chest rise and fall deeply. The ice in him wouldn’t let him break his gaze. 

A hand came to wrap around his arm, gripping tightly. “Jug, let her leg go.” Jughead glanced down at his hand and saw that it was gripping the blonde’s ankle in a near-death grip. He slowly pried his fingers back one by one and watched at a bruise emerged out from underneath them. 

It was this that melted the ice in him. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Don’t worry about it, Juggie.” Penny all but breathed the words into Jughead’s ear, as if he was a sleepwalker and she didn’t want to wake him too forcefully. “It matches all her other ones.” 

Jughead thought this might be an insensitive and cruel thing to say if he hadn’t been able to see the bruises littering the skin that was showing. They were all in various stages of healing, which Jughead was smart enough to know meant that some were old, the yellow, greenish ones, and that meant that the angry black and purple ones were very new. 

“I’m going to take her upstairs.” He spoke quietly, the words barely making it past his lips. He tucked one arm under her neck and one under her knees and realized that this was becoming a common occurrence for him. Picking her up and carrying her around. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

* * *

 

He left Sweet Pea, Penny, and F.P. behind, not really listening to their conversation as he walked away. Jughead climbed the staircase carefully, trusting his feet to make their way up the stairs that he had walked a thousand times. 

A long hallway stretched ahead of him, doors littering both sides. Back in the ‘80’s, The Whyte Wyrm had been a hotel and a fairly nice one. But as with everything in Riverdale, the decline of the southside had meant the loss of business. The Whyte Wyrm was no longer a respected establishment, instead, it was the home of the Southside Serpents, notorious biker gang, to be feared by all. 

Jughead came up to the second door on his right side and nudged it open with his foot. Inside there nothing too impressive. A small, single bed lay pushed against a wall. It was here that Jughead deposited the blonde, laying her gently down on the mattress. He watched for a moment as she shifted and whimpered in her sleep. 

He turned to the other side of the room and walked towards the dresser sitting there. Every room upstairs was equipped with a bed, a dresser, and a vanity from back in the Wyrm’s patronage days. Jughead opened a drawer and rummaged through the spare sheets until he found what he was looking for. 

From under the fresh linens, he pulled a blanket, clean, but old and worn in. He turned back to the blonde, not wanting to acknowledge the kindness he was displaying to her, even if she wasn’t awake to witness it. He was Jughead Jones, leader of the Southside Serpents. He didn’t rescue damsels in distress, he didn’t cover said damsels in blankets, and he didn’t care about anyone other than his Serpent family. 

So why was he doing all this? Why did he even care? 

He couldn’t answer those questions. Ever since he had come back from New York he had felt empty. Like something had been taken from him. He had easily moved into a position among the Serpent’s that garnered respect and eventually they elected him as the leader when F.P. had announced he would be stepping down. 

Jughead loved these people. They were his family when his own family had left. They were the people he had grown up with. The only love that Jughead had ever felt lay within the parameters of these walls. 

And then there was this girl. Jughead shook his head, almost as if he shook it enough, it would clear her out like an Etch-a-Sketch drawing. He recoiled from her as if she had burned him. He hated the fact that the thought of this girl came anywhere near his thoughts of his family. 

He knew that it was ridiculous. He didn’t know her. Not where she lived, who she was running from, not even her  _ name.  _ He couldn’t express how much it irked him that she had infiltrated his thoughts as he had been contemplating his family. It made his guts twist. 

He decided that it was curiosity. There was no way that he could feel any kind of warmth towards her. He knew nothing about her. He simply wanted to know more about her. She was a loose end that needed to be tied up, a swamp of questions that needed to be answered. He stared at her intently, trying to figure out the reason behind his actions. 

Why had he stopped for her?

Why had he looked for her?

Why had he respected her wishes and brought her here, even if taking her to the hospital would have been so much easier? 

Why?

Why?

Why?

Jughead could only take so much spiraling down into his own thoughts before he felt the black darkness of rage well up inside him. He didn’t care, he decided. In the end, he had been curious about her. His actions were ones that any decent human being would have done, and Jughead liked to think that he was, at least, still one of those.

* * *

 

Sweet Pea and Penny were waiting for him when he came back downstairs. He had shut the door on the blonde, hoping that he could leave all his conflicted thoughts in the room with her. 

Sweet Pea waved him over when Jughead descended the stairs. He sat in their booth and it was quiet for a moment before the questions started. 

“Where the hell did she come from?” came the first question from Penny.

“What happened to her?” Sweet Pea questioned. 

“Why did you bring her here?” 

“How did you know F.P. was going to be able to fix her up?” Jughead placed his elbows on the table, resting his head in one hand and holding the other up in front of them. The two Serpent’s in front of him fell silent. Jughead knew that for them, this wasn’t out of respect or fear, but because they knew him well enough to know that if they slowed down he would give them all the answers he could. 

He sighed heavily, feeling more drained as their gazes rested on him. He lifted his head just enough to meet their eyes. 

“I found her on the highway. She was already pretty banged up, but wouldn’t tell me who she was running from or where she was going.” Penny eyed him carefully, watching to see if he was lying to them. 

“Ok, so why bring her here? We could have dropped her off at the hospital and been done with all this hours ago.” Jughead chuckled at Penny’s question; the exact same thoughts had been running through his mind not ten minutes before. 

“She asked me not to,” he said simply. Sweet Pea looked at him in what Jughead could only imagine was astonishment. 

“Since when has that ever mattered?” Sweet Pea’s words were gruff, but they always were. The man had an issue  _ using his nice words _ , as Penny so often liked to remind him. 

“She begged me, Pea,” Jughead scoffed gently at the memory, “said that  _ they  _ would find her. Whoever  _ they  _ are anyways. I couldn’t just take her to the hospital and leave her there, knowing that whoever had hurt her in the first place could get to her again.” He glared as Penny and Sweet Pea exchanged a knowing look. 

“Forever a hero, Juggie.” Penny’s words ate away at his skin, making him feel raw and exposed. 

“Fuck you, Pen.” The words came out gently, will no real venom behind them. 

The hero complex jokes had started when he had gone to save Penny that night. When they had gotten back to the Wyrm, there had been widespread rage. The Serpent’s had wanted to coordinate an attack on the Ghoulie’s that night, to show that you can’t hurt a snake without getting bit. 

Penny had, much to Jughead’s amazement, dispelled the anger with a simple story about getting caught due to her own stupidity, and being rescued due to Jughead’s inherent need to be a hero. 

The story, as simple as it was, had been enough to placate the Serpent’s at the time, but it had given Jughead a new reputation of being a savior. A hero among snakes. He had hated it at the time, being idolized as a better man because he had gone to help a friend. 

If any of them had known the real story, that he had gone to help Penny because she was his insurance policy, he doubted that everyone would have been singing his praises. Penny was the only thing that had gotten, and kept, F.P. out of jail. That was the reason he had gone to help her. There was nothing heroic about looking out for yourself and your loved ones. 

Not in his mind anyway. 

“Where did F.P. go?” Jughead asked this, already knowing the answer.

“Not sure, Jug. He said he had to go check on something. Took off as soon as you went upstairs.” Sweet Pea delivered the words carefully, not wanting to upset the Serpent leader. 

Jughead shook his head, letting it hang for a moment, taking a deep breath.  _ Where the hell does he keep disappearing to? _ The thought had been driving him crazy for weeks and was only getting more and more aggravating as time went on. 

They sat in silence for a while as the rest of the Serpent’s started making their way back inside. Most of them nodded at Jughead and continued on to their own tables, but a shorter man with slicked back hair came up to their table and sat down. 

“Where were you this morning?” Jughead questioned, without his usually harsh inflection. 

“Helping a friend from the northside, his best friend went missing a couple weeks ago and he’s losing his mind trying to look for her.” Sweet Pea’s eyebrows shot up a the mention of Northsider’s, while Penny and Jughead’s faces remained neutral.

“This wouldn’t be the same friend you’ve been sneaking off with in the middle of the night would it, Joaquin?” Penny’s words hung in the air. The man looked at the table, probably in an attempt to hide a blush, before looking back up, his face now arranged into a look of indifference. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Jughead raised an eyebrow, a smirk starting to play across his face, “but yes.” Joaquin heaved a heavy sigh and Jughead knew better than to push his friend. He would tell them as much as he wanted to and nothing more. It was the way things had always been with Joaquin. 

“Well, I hope the sex is worth it.” Sweet Pea said curtly. Jughead almost choked on laughter while Penny swatted at the large man’s beefy arm. 

“Pea! Jesus, have some class.” Penny’s voice was tinged with admonishment, but Jughead knew that words would fall short for Sweet Pea. The man had no tact, but that was part of his allure. 

Jughead was continually amazed at how different everyone in their small group was. Sweet Pea had verbal diarrhea most days, unable and unwilling to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. Penny was a vault, not sharing anything with anyone except for Jughead and. occasionally, Joaquin. Joaquin could only be guaranteed to overshare if there was whiskey involved. Then there was Jughead, not exactly forthcoming with information, but not as tough to crack as Penny. A happy middle between his closest confidants. 

“Speaking of sneaking around in the middle of the night,” Jughead began cautiously, making sure no one in the booths around them was listening, “where exactly did Coop come from, Pen?” 

Sweet Pea and Joaquin both looked curiously at Penny, both taking on a more serious demeanor.  Penny matched Jughead’s steady gaze, probably hating that he had chosen now to bring this up. 

“Who is Coop?” Sweet Pea’s question hung in the air and all eyes were on Penny, waiting expectantly for an answer. 

“Who, indeed?” Jughead felt a slight smirk start tugging at his mouth. Jughead found himself thinking back to that morning, wondering how it could be that just this morning he had been slinging his knuckles across the face of another man.

This realization flattened him with a feeling of exhaustion. “I'll let you explain that one, Pen. I'm going upstairs.” He slipped out of the booth and made his way towards the nearby staircase. 

“Have fun visiting your damsel in distress.” Penny's voice floated gently above the din of the other patrons.

Jughead scoffed and flicked his middle finger up at her as Joaquin and Sweet Pea chuckled.

Jughead ascended the stairs, his hands trailing lightly on the banister as he climbed. 

The wood was worn and felt like silk under his palm. He thought back to all the times he had been in this bar and all the times he’d climbed the stairs. Even from the time he was young, he had vivid memories of coming to visit his father at work. He would climb the stairs all the way up to F.P.’S office and would sit on his father's lap and watch him do his work.

Now that he was older he could recognize that all the work he thought his dad was doing as a child was really the management of the Serpent's and their unbecoming actions. 

Jughead wondered how his life would have turned out differently if his father hadn't been a Serpent. There has been a time when F.P. wasn't a Serpent. He had given back his jacket and decided to go straight and get a  _ real job,  _ as he had put it back then, starting a construction company with Fred Andrews.

Jughead still didn't know all the details but what he did now was that his father was not meant for the straight and narrow path. He had been bought out of Andrew's Construction before the end of their first fiscal year and had come back to the Serpent's, more enraged and liquor-fueled than ever. 

Jughead thought back to the time when his father was working a steady job. It has been the only time in Jughead’s life that he could vividly remember everything at home being happy and stable. His mom was still around and Jelly Bean was still home. His dad quit drinking and everything seemed as good as it could get. 

For a brief amount of time, Jughead had had a best friend. Archie Andrews was the son of Fred. Both children had spent so much time on the construction sites with their fathers that they had become fast friends. Jughead could still remember the boy’s innocent doe-eyes and happy-go-lucky demeanor, something that Jughead had never, and would never, as he found out later in life, be afforded to have.

That innocence was something that Jughead lost at an early age. It was something that he had been raised to consider a weakness.

When F.P. had been bought out of Andrews Construction something happened to him. A bitterness had festered inside him that not even Jughead’s mom could brighten.

Jughead arrived at the door of the room where the blonde was sleeping. He listened quietly outside for a moment and, after hearing no stirrings, gently open the door and squeezed through the small gap.

She had barely moved from when he had left her. The blanket was slightly pulled down from her sweater-clad chest. Jughead watched as she breathed deeply in and out for a few minutes. He wondered for a moment how long she would be sleeping. It’s not like he was expecting a miraculous recovery. He knew firsthand that the human body could do amazing things as long as you left it alone and gave it time to recover. He figured that she would come around by the end of tomorrow. She had lost so much blood and her body needed to replenish its supply. He was still half-wondering how he had even made it back to the Wyrm in time, how there was any blood left in her body. 

Not wanting to leave and go back downstairs into the noise, he sat down on the chair in front of the vanity.

Jughead thoughts returned to his father. 

* * *

_ Jughead was sitting at the table, working on homework for math that was due the next day. He was struggling with how to find out how many chocolate bars Sarah had eaten if she had 86 to start and only had 29 left. He thought that she probably had a stomach ache, but knew that answer wouldn’t amuse his teacher as much as it amused him. _

_ He started writing down the proper equation when the back door of their house slammed open, causing a bang to erupt throughout the kitchen. He jumped in his seat, dropping his pencil and deftly watched it roll onto the floor. His father came careening into the kitchen, anger etched into his face. Jughead couldn’t remember ever seeing his father so angry, his eyes wild like a trapped animal’s, his voice rumbling low in the back of his throat.  _

_ F.P. ripped open the fridge door, causing everything in the door to jangle and shift. His shot his hand forward and pulled out a long-necked bottle of beer, cracking it open swiftly. Jughead could smell the alcohol on his father before the beer even touched his lips, indicating that this beer wasn’t his first of the day.  _

_ F.P. seemed to notice Jughead as an afterthought, something shiny that caught the eyes of a raven and headed towards him. Jughead shrunk back into his chair, not used to seeing his father mad, uncomfortable with the look in F.P.’s eyes. His father had placed his hands on Jughead’s shoulders, gripping tightly as he spoke. _

_ “You can’t trust anyone. You hear me, boy? No one, Even if you think they’re on your side, even if you think they have your back. They don’t.” Jughead watched as his father’s eyes glassed over, whether it was from the alcohol or anger, Jughead couldn’t be sure.  _

_ Jughead squirmed slightly under his father’s tight grip, which F.P. seemed to notice. He let go abruptly, looking as if he were about to apologize, but then thought better of it. He walked over to the couch, and collapsed onto the worn-in cushions, passing out with the same swiftness that he had entered the house with, beer forgotten on the table _ . 

* * *

At the time Jughead hadn’t known that this would become a common occurrence of his life. He hadn't known that he would have a father who insisted on frequently disrupting his tranquility with his own baggage and issues.

Jughead was still pondering how his childhood could have played out differently when a soft knock came at the door came. He heaved himself out of the chair and quietly opened it just a crack. Joaquin's face greeted him, his hazel eyes shining brightly in the sun that was coming in through the window.

“What's up?” Jughead asked quietly not wanting to disturb the restful sleep of the blonde on the bed behind him.

“Just came up to see how you were doing. You seemed a little dazed when you were downstairs. You okay?” Jughead’s lip curled into a half smirk. Sweet Pea might have been his best friend, but Joaquin understood Jughead in a way that no person ever had before. He picked up on the subtlest of facial expressions and each individual choice of words. Nothing could get by him and it was terrifying to Jughead that someone could read him so well. 

“C’mon, Jug. No sense in lying.” Joaquin strode into the room to stand by the window, letting the sunlight hit him full force. “Talk.”

Jughead chuckled lightly to himself, then his face turned serious again as he contemplated Joaquin’s question.

“I don’t know what it is about her, Joaquin. It’s like, I mean, I don’t even know her. I can’t even put into words why I wanted to help her. Just that something inside me was screaming for me to.” Joaquin nodded sagely at his admission. Jughead held a breath as he waited for Joaquin to speak. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Jughead. My Abuela always says that if your mind doesn’t know what it wants, then your heart usually does. Maybe you just have to be patient and see what your heart is trying to tell you.” Jughead scoffed and ran his tongue over his teeth, looking down at the blonde who lay on the bed. 

“I think my heart froze a long time ago.” Joaquin came over to him, slapping a hand reassuringly on Jughead’s shoulder. He made to leave the room when his phone pinged in his pocket. Jughead raised an eyebrow in curiosity as Joaquin removed the phone from his pocket and opened the waiting message. 

Joaquin’s breath hitched in his throat as he turned back to Jughead, but his eyes didn’t meet the Serpent leader’s. Instead, they drew to the girl laying in the bed. He held up his phone, looking at the screen and then back at the girl. 

Jughead came to stand beside Joaquin, his eyes greedily roving over the phone screen. 

“What the hell am I looking at, Joaquin?” Jughead listened intently as Joaquin let go of a shaky breath. 

“My friend from the Northside?” His voice was whisper quiet, almost as if he was trying to hide from a monster, “The one whose friend is missing? That’s her.”

* * *

In a small house on Elm Street, a cell phone rang. A hand reached out to grab it off the table, worry gripping his stomach tightly.

“What?” His voice was sharp as barbed wire, destroying everything it caught on. “What is it?”

The line was silent for a moment, only the sound of ragged breathing coming from the speaker. 

“Kevin! What the fuck is it? Do you have something?” His hands shook, and his clutched his phone tightly to his face. 

“I know where she is, Arch.” He let out a sigh of relief, feeling all the tensed muscles in his body let go all at once. The next words, however, caused an earth-shattering wave of pain and worry to descend upon him, blacking out the sun and all its warmth. 

_ “She’s on the southside. The Serpent’s have her.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this! Leave me a comment letting me know what you think, and if you feel like hearing my inner rambles then head on over to Tumblr and follow me at crescentmoonmadness!


	4. Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt the ice in his veins start to harden just slightly, the defense mechanism working its way through his body. Like a fight or flight response that always chose fight.
> 
> **“So,” he drawled out “tell me your story.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who stuck with me through this extended wait between chapters! I appreciate that you guys stuck with me through it. I know three weeks is a long time to wait, but I am so happy that you came back to my little story! I hope you enjoy that next installment of I Deal in Ice.

Joaquin and Jughead ran down the steps, taking them three at a time. Penny was now behind the bar serving herself and some other patrons a drink whereas Sweet Pea had remained where they had left him in their booth. 

Jughead called out to Penny over his shoulder as he walked back to their booth, “Penny, you need to come over here.” When Penny didn't move Jughead stopped and made a half turn, glaring daggers at her chest. “Now.” 

Penny, not one to relish being bossed around, made an indignant jerk of her head but in the end, came over to where the three men waited for her.

“What is it, Superboy?” Jughead grit his teeth as Penny made another jab at his so-called hero complex. 

“We found out who she is,” Jughead barked,  “Well, kind of.” Jughead noticed Penny’s eyes widening and knew that he had earned her attention now. 

“Just what I’ve been dying to know.” Jughead barely contained the roll of his eyes at Penny’s weak attempt at indifference. She had the worst poker face in their crew. 

“She's a Northsider,” Joaquin stated, “Remember the guy that I said that I was helping this morning because his best friend is missing? Well, he sent me a picture of her so I would know who to look for. It's the same fucking girl.” His words tumbled out in a hurry, battling each other for purchase in their listener’s ears, as he held up his cell phone for Penny and Sweet Pea to see the phone of the blonde upstairs. 

“Shit.” Sweet Pea breathed out. “What do we do now?”

Jughead snorted at the question. “We don’t have much choice. Joaquin already told the guy that we had her. My guess is they're going to be down here in about five minutes. So we have to get our shit together and be ready for whatever kind of shitstorm is coming with them.”

At the mention of  _ them _ , Penny’s eyebrow raised again and voiced her concern. “Them? How do you know there's a them? Maybe it’s just the one guy.”.

Joaquin's jaw clenched at this observation. “I very much doubt that. Kevin's a pretty smart guy and he definitely wouldn't come to the Whyte Wyrm without backup. Partly because I’ve done a very good of scaring him into staying away from here.” The rest all murmured their agreement. Each of them was well-versed in keeping outsiders away from the Whyte Wyrm. In the best of cases, it was not a place for regular Southsiders, and definitely not a place for Northsiders. 

“Well, you obviously know him the best, Joaquin.” Sweet Pea stated. “What are we working with here?”

“Kevin is fine. He just wants his best friend back. But I don't know anything about the guy - or guys - that he's bringing with him. I have no clue what to expect.” He looked at Jughead expectantly, waiting for him to weigh-in on the conversation. 

Jugheads jaw tightened at the conversation unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t expected things to get so complicated so quickly, but he should have. When it came to the Serpents, things were rarely smooth sailing. He had hoped that the girl upstairs would have woken up and told him where she was from and who she was running from before things could get complicated. 

The fact that Joaquin was sleeping with the girl's best friend was the kind of punch that Jughead had spent most of his life learning to roll with. 

“Should someone go sit with her?” Sweet Pea questioned. Jughead had to laugh at the fact that Sweet Pea was the only one who wasn’t afraid of his temper. He knew he was visibly getting agitated, and he knew Joaquin and Penny would both tread lightly around him during these times, but Sweet Pea had never bothered to alter his actions to placate someone else. It was part of the reason Jughead was so close to the taller man. 

“I think we need more help down here than she needs up there, Sweet Pea,” Penny muttered quietly, more to herself than anybody. 

They didn't have any more time to deliberate strategy as all four of them heard gravel crunch under tires outside. 

“That must be them,” Joaquin breathed. 

Jughead took a few steps closer to the door, planting his feet and standing his ground, getting ready for the chaos that was about to come rumbling through the front door of the Wyrm. He felt more so than saw his three comrades fall into place on both sides of him. Joaquin came to stand directly to his right, Sweet Pea to his left and Penny sidling up beside Sweet Pea.

Jughead knew that they looked intimidating. He had seen this mirrored before as a teenager by his father and his closest followers. He knew the effect of the black leather jackets and the combat boots, staple pieces of any Serpents wardrobe. He knew that Sweet Pea’s muscles and Penny’s narrowed eyes had stopped men in their tracks. He knew that Joaquin’s quick thinking and his own cutting words were enough to deter enemies from rushing into battle. 

This was his A-team. His first line of defense. He hadn’t chosen them, they had more chosen each other. And it was because of this knowledge that they were all loyal to one another that Jughead wasn’t afraid of whatever was about to walk through the front door. 

Footsteps pounded up the front steps, warning the four Serpents of the intruders that were coming. 

“Get ready,” Jughead breathed. 

The front door burst open so hard it cracked on its hinges and slammed into the wall behind it. The bright, midday sun came in so intensely that the man standing in the door frame was cast into a silhouette, making it impossible for Jughead to see his face. He didn't have to contemplate for too long, though, as the figure made three giant strides inside, the door swinging shut behind him. Jughead offhandedly noticed that there was a smaller man standing just behind the behemoth in front of him.

Jughead heard Joaquin on his right gently whisper under his breath, “Shit, Kevin.”

“Where is she!” The man in front screamed, his voice reverberating off the walls, demanding the attention of all of the Serpent's inside. The voice was so startling that half the Serpent's inside the bar rose to their feet, ready to defend their leader if need be. Jughead, however, was having a hard time focusing on the man's words. Instead, he was drawn to the shock of red hair on top of his head and his dark eyebrows over top of hazel eyes, something about the combination feeling familiar. Jughead couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this man, it niggled at the back of his mind, demanding to be answered.

He knew that everyone was waiting for his next move, waiting for the orders to attack He squared his shoulders and glared down at the large man in front of him. Now that the doors had closed and Jughead’s eyes had readjusted, he could fully take in the man in front of him. 

He had broad shoulders that were clothed in a grey henley, so tight that it showed off every muscle in the man’s upper body, of which there were many, Jughead noted. His face was distorted from rage, and he had fire in his hazel eyes. 

“Are you deaf? I said, where is she?” Jughead cocked an eyebrow at the insult, feeling his own rage start to rise. You didn’t walk into a snake den and start stepping on tails just because you felt like it. That was a good way to get bitten. 

Jughead barked out a laugh and shook his head, knowing that his mild show of amusement would only further enrage the man before him. He was right. The redhead took two giant steps towards him, almost bounding across the entirety of the Wyrm’s floor, but Jughead still didn't move. It was only when the charging man was two feet away from Jughead, his arm pulled back to strike, that Jughead finally made his move. The fist came sailing through the air, aimed at Jughead’s cheek, but he ducked away just in time. 

The other man seemed confused that he had missed his target, then angry again. He took another swing, which Jughead dodged with ease again, ducking out of the way. 

Jughead felt the rage inside him, boiling hot and flowing freely through his veins, slowly start to cool, the ever-present ice freezing him from the inside out. His body and mind melded into one cohesive unit, years of experience both sparring with his father and fighting other gangs took over his movements. He planted his back foot, swinging hard as he transferred his weight to his front foot, his fist finding purchase on the redhead’s cheekbone. The punch acted as a catalyst. One moment there were just a couple punches being thrown, but after the hit connected all hell broke loose.  Serpent’s jumped from their chairs, running over to Jughead, building a circle around them. No one made a move to touch the redhead though. All his men knew the rule. Serpent’s fought fair. 

The redhead made another aggressive move forward, which Jughead easily maneuvered away from, smirking. The man in front of him obviously didn't know how to fight, his technique left him wide open, a fact that Jughead would take advantage of. He ducked underneath the arm and quickly made a jab towards the redhead’s ribs, causing the taller man to clutch his side and shift sideways, turning his body away from Jughead to protect himself.

Jughead felt the ice coursing through him once again, almost welcoming it this time. He willed his heart to freeze over and his limbs to turn to shards of glass. He felt strength and power in every cell of his body, a force to be reckoned with. 

Jughead watched as his smile registered with the man across from him. He wondered briefly how he looked when the ice took hold of him. How the glacial cold that swept through him, distorted his face, coiled his muscles. Jughead licked his lips, tongue darting out to moisten them, and took a small step towards the man in front of him. Without warning he darted forward, swinging his arm towards the redhead, keeping his movement controlled and swift. 

The punch found its home just above the man’s eyebrow and Jughead could feel the skin split underneath his knuckles. His stomach twisted in a mix of delight, and then guilt at that delight. 

The redhead staggered back and it's only at that point that Jughead could see the smaller man behind him. His face was shrouded in terror and his eyes kept flicking in between Jughead and what he can only assume is Joaquin. It's this look of fear and terror that causes him to pause for a moment.

It's long enough for the redhead to get his bearings and to right himself again. He seemed to think twice before charging at Jughead again, this time glaring at Jughead. Jughead could almost see his thought process revealed through his facial expressions. 

They continued to size each other up for a few moments and the silence in the bar became deafening to Jughead. There was no clinking of glasses, no murmuring of the men and women talking. No one moved, no one breathed, all eyes were trained on Jughead, the fearless Serpent leader and the furious redhead who had burst down their doors in an attempt to take a round out of Jughead Jones.

Jughead’s eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent. His gaze fell over the redhead’s body, looking for weaknesses. It was obvious that he wasn’t a skilled fighter. Every time he moved or shifted he left new targets on his body wide open. Jughead smirked, feeling the smile break across his face. Fighting came all to easy to him, but at least his opponents were usually more skilled. He took a lunging step forward, ready to lay a punch into the redhead’s ribs when the redhead stopped and dropped his hands. 

Jughead’s movements stuttered to a stop, bewildered that his opponent had dropped his guard so completed. He watched the larger man’s eyes focus in on something behind him, and the next moment found himself being roughly pushed aside, only catching his balance at the last second. His eyes followed where the redhead had been looking and saw the blonde woman standing there, leaning against the banister of the staircase, looking down on the fight.

Her eyes were wide with what must have been fear, and something that looked akin to relief. The redhead pushed aside Serpents and hastily climbed the staircase, stopping a couple steps below where the blonde stood. 

“Betty!” The larger man wrapped his arms around the small woman’s middle, and her arms came to wrap around his neck. Jughead watched in silence as the exchange took place, his heart clenching painfully for some unknown reason. 

Jughead felt a nudge on his shoulder and turned to find Sweet Pea standing beside him. 

“You gotta do something, the boys are getting restless.” Jughead took a quick scan of the crowd around him. Sweet Pea was right. The Serpent’s had wanted a fight, and they weren’t used to being denied. Jughead needed to get a hold on the situation before things got out of hand.

He ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time until he was face to face with the redhead and the blonde, who he now knew was Betty. 

“You have to get out of here,” Jughead whispered quietly to the man. He could tell the other man was about to fire back a response, hatred seeping deep into his eyes when Betty placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

“He’s right, Arch. Look around. We aren’t making it out of here until it cools down a bit.” The words caused the man, Arch, as Betty had called him, to look down at the crowd gathering at the base of the staircase. 

“Go back to the room you were in,” Jughead muttered, “You’ll be safe there and I’ll take care of these guys.”

Betty nodded once and turned, leading the redhead up the staircase by the hand. Jughead again felt the painful clench in his chest but chalked it up to unspent adrenaline.

* * *

Betty waited until she was up on the landing to break down. Her legs went out from under her, forcing Archie to support her weight. The tears started flowing freely as Archie effortlessly picked her up and carried her towards the only open door.

She wrapped an arm around his thick neck and buried her face there, tears streaming hotly down her face. 

“What happened, Betts? Where the fuck have you been?” Her sobs caught in her throat as she heard the concerned words pour out of Archie’s mouth. 

“I was so scared, and it hurts, Archie. It hurts so much.” Her voice was weak, raw the sobs ripping through her. 

“What hurts, Betts? Tell me what hurts, show me where it hurts.” Betty nodded into his neck as he set her down on the bed, back against the headboard, legs laid out in front of her. 

“It’s my leg.” Betty looked at Archie as he processed her state of undress. One pant leg was cut off, the other still intact. The wound was bandaged, meaning that Archie couldn’t see any of the damage. Betty’s hand gently found one corner of the bandage and peeled it back, wincing at the pain of the adhesive pulling at the skin. 

Betty herself gasped at the sight beneath the bandage. Where there had been a nasty cut a few hours ago there were now stitches, angrily pulling the skin closed. 

She watched Archie stare for a moment before his eyes clouded with anger once again, turning his wrath back to the Serpent’s downstairs. 

“What did he do to you? I’ll kill him!” The words were barely out of his mouth before he was already halfway across the room, intent on seeking out the ones who had hurt Betty 

“Archie, it wasn’t him! Don’t go down there!” Archie’s movements came to a halt at the panic in her voice. He turned to look at her, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t leave me.” 

Betty hated that she sounded so pathetic. Hated that she sounded weak. This wasn’t who she was. Wasn’t who she had constructed herself to be. But she couldn’t be left alone. Not again. 

Archie walked quickly back over to the bed, pulling the chair from the vanity up beside it. He laid a hand gently on Betty’s face and she relished in its warmth. 

The redhead seemed to forget his anger altogether as she stared at the girl on the bed. His head hung low as he met her eyes.

Betty watched as Archie looked into her eyes. She hated it when he did that. It felt like he was staring right into her soul. 

“What happened?” Betty closed her eyes, not wanting to give herself and the hurt she was feeling away.

Betty let go of a shaky breath, her voice ratcheting in the back of her throat. Most people wouldn't push Betty when she didn't want to talk about something. Most people thought she was a fragile doll, not to be broken or handled roughly. But Archie had been her friend as long as she had ever known. and he knew that she was tough which meant that he also knew that just because she didn't want to talk about something didn't mean that she wouldn’t. 

“I was at the Cemetery.” Archie’s eyes shot up into his hairline. 

“The whole time?” Betty nodded, not wanting to tell him all the awful details. 

Archie laid a hand gently on her leg his fingers tracing the bruises that had been left by her captors.

“Who gave you these?” She noticed the change in his tactics, but also knew that he would circle around to ask her about her story again. His fingertips brushed against the bruises again. 

“Some low-level thug. I never got his name. They kept on sending different guys. I think it was so that I couldn't figure out who they were.”

Archie barked out a short laugh. “Well, they obviously don't know you then. You knew who they were before you even set foot in that bar.”

His fingers came to brush around the outside edge of her now stitched up thigh. “And who gave you this?”

Again her stomach turned in on itself at the thought of when she had received the injury. Brown eyes that were hard and cold, almost black in color. Tattoos running up and down his arms, a coldness in him that Betty could feel when he had gotten too close. 

“His name is Malachi. He's the leader of the Ghoulies.”

Archie nodded sagely taking the information and absorbing it. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Betty shook her head. “I've got a few more bruises.”

“I want to see them.”Betty started to shake her head, not wanting Archie to see the abuse her body had taken. He placed a hand on her arm gently.

“Take off your sweater, Betts. Let me see.”

Betty let go of a small sigh, knowing that Archie wouldn't drop it. It wasn't in his nature. She gently pulled her arms out of the sleeves and brought the hoodie up over her head. The state of her upper body must have been worse than she had imagined because when she got her sweater off and revealed her upper arms, the tank top that she was wearing letting everything show, Archie’s gasp rang through the room.

“Jesus Christ, Betty.” Betty looks down, her heart clenching at the sound of Archie's voice. She was ashamed of getting caught and even more ashamed that she had been abused.

“You're so small.” He whispered. She chuckled darkly at this. 

“Yeah, I don't think the Ghoulies really understand hospitality.” Her mind flashed back to her time down in the basement of the Cemetery. She had been given something to eat once every day. It was never enough to actually let her regain her strength, which she supposed was probably the point.

She felt Archie's hands ghosting over her shoulders, all skin and bone now.

His hands move down her arms and trailed over the bruises that were in varying degrees of healing.

“The bruises?” Betty raised one eyebrow her lips curling into a sick form of a smile.

“Well, you know me, Arch. I don't go down without a fight. Turns out when you are a hassle, people like to put you your place.”

Archie's eyes snapped up to hers, trying to decipher exactly what her last words that meant. She shook her head slightly and he nodded. An unspoken agreement between them. 

“Arch? How long was I down there?”

Archie's thick eyebrows shot up into the sky reaching for the sky. “You don't know?”

Betty shook her head sadly, eyes looking down at the comforter that she was sitting on. “There were no windows in the room that I was in. I never knew if it was night or day, or how many hours of gone by. After the first couple days, everything just bled into one another.”

Archie's eyes spoke of sadness that came directly from his heart. Betty was his family and he had let her down.

“What the hell happened Arch? Our plan was perfect.”

Archie looked up his eyes full of pain and regret. She arranged her face into her best poker face.

Archie stared at her, emotion after emotion raging across his face. Regret, disappointment, heartbreak. They chased each other around on his face until she almost got dizzy from watching.

“You can tell me Arch. What happened?”

Archie heaved another sigh and looked down at the bed once again. He seemed to steel himself before he looked back up. 

“Everything was perfect. I watched you as you climbed through the window. I waited for fifteen minutes like you said. I was just about to call you when a couple of guys came out of the side door of the bar. He started walking over to me and I pulled out the gun you gave me.” 

Betty drew in a quick breath at the redhead’s words. “Archie that was only supposed to be for emergencies!”

“Well, I panicked. I was scared. As soon as they saw the gun though everything went South. One of the guys had a gun of their own and he pulled it out and I hesitated. I should have pulled the trigger but I didn't.”

“What happened?” Betty demanded. 

Instead of answering, Archie brought one arm slowly out of the sleeve of his shirt and brought the shirt up to rest on his shoulder. Betty saw right through the meat of his shoulder a wound shaped perfectly like a bullet hole. It had obviously been stitched up and taken care of, but the tears still flowed freely from her eyes.

“You got shot?” The tears returning now full force. 

“Yeah. When the bullet hit me, I fired off a round of my own, more so from shock than anything. It's spooked them and they ran away and I called 911. I figured that if I called, then maybe they would be  able to help me and get you out of there but by the time the ambulance showed up I was pretty much passed out.” Archie heaved a sigh, his own voice catching in his throat. Betty moved a hand to rest on his, hoping to reassure him, or at least east some of his own pain.

“Betty please believe me when I tell you that I tried to tell them you were in the building. But they wouldn't listen to me. They just kept asking me who shot me, where they went, and why I had a gun and what had happened. They loaded me up and took me to the hospital and I passed out on the way. I didn't come to for four days they said. By the time I finally woke up I was so hopped up on painkillers that I couldn't function. I tried calling you but your phone went straight to voicemail. I called Kevin next and he was in hysterics. He called my dad and they both showed up to the hospital at the same time and -”

Archie clutched at Betty’s hand that was resting on his arm, and Betty winced at the pressure. 

“Archie,” Betty reached up to place a hand on his shoulder with her free hand, “I know that you probably did everything you could. I know you wouldn’t leave me down there unless you had no choice.”

Archie nodded at this, seeming to let the words sink in, but Betty could tell that he wasn’t able to forgive himself. Archie had been her protector for as long as she could remember. He was always there to run to her aid or get her out of sticky situations. She knew that it must have killed him to be stuck in a hospital bed not knowing if she was alright.

“I'm fine Betts. Nothing as bad as what you've got.” He gestured with his head down to her leg, the stitches stretched with her swollen skin and the cut angry and bread.

“I was going to tell Sheriff Keller where you were,” Betty’s hands clenched at the mention of the Sheriff. 

“But you didn’t, right? Archie, please tell me you didn’t.” Archie moved to release himself from Betty’s grip.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I may not be the smartest, but I know how to keep a secret.” Betty let out a sigh of relief, at least that was one thing that hadn’t gone wrong during their operation. “I would never tell anybody your secrets.”

Betty smiled at the redhead’s confession. “I know, Arch. Sorry. I should give you more credit.” Her eyes welled up with tears again as they found the bullet hole in his shoulder again. She reached with one finger to gently circle to wound, hearing him suck in a sharp breath at the pressure of her finger. 

She felt Archie's hands on her arms again and heard his soft voice in her ear. “Betts, come on. I'm fine see? I'm right here and I'm okay. And you're okay too. And that's all that matters.”

“Jesus Christ, Archie do you even see where that is? A couple more inches over and you could have been dead!” Her exclamation came louder than she intended, the words echoing off the sickly yellow walls around them. 

Archie grabbed her and held her at an arm's length away so he could look directly into her eyes his eyes glimmering. “Me? Never. They couldn't kill me if they tried.”

Betty let go of a breath that she hadn't even known she had been holding. She brought one hand up to rest on her forehead, closing her eyes against the headache building behind her eyes. “Let's just go home. I need to go home.”

Archie nodded his head wants an agreement not wanting to push her.

“Betts?” She looked at his once again, the questioning tone of his voice worrying her. “What about your dad? You went in there for him. Did you find him?” 

Betty scoffed lightly. “That’s the worst part, Arch. I looked in every room before I got caught. He wasn’t there.” 

Archie reeled back in surprise. “If he wasn’t there, then where the hell is he?” 

“I don’t know, Arch, I need to go home and think this all through again.”

“Of course, Betts. Can I help you stand up?” Betty nodded her head slowly, feeling like it weighed ten pounds. 

He held out his hands and she lightly rested hers on them. She turned to face the edge of the bed and set her feet on the floor, feeling the leg with the stitches now shrieking in pain. She tried to contain a gasp to no avail.

Archie stopped moving them for a moment, waiting for her to give the ok. She drew in a deep breath and nodded. He pulled gently on her arms and brought her up to her full height. She was cautiously keeping all of her weight on her uninjured leg. She realized quickly that the cut in her leg was affecting her much more than she cared to admit. She tried to put weight on her leg and felt it wobble uncertainly. 

Her leg went out from underneath, the limb not able to support even a fraction of her weight. She grabbed onto Archie's shoulders quickly, trying to hold herself up and he, in turn, wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Shit.” She breathed, her voice laced with pain. 

“Take it easy, Betts. I got you.” Before Betty could contemplate what he meant, he was slipping an arm behind her knees and cradling her back, gently lifting her up in one continuous motion.

She clenched her teeth against the pain that throbbed through her thigh with the movement and gripped her fingers together behind Archie's neck.

“Alright. Let's go home.”

As they walked out of the room, Betty couldn't help rest her head against the redheaded man's shoulder. He was her rock and always would be.

* * *

“Joaquin, get the hell out of my way. I am going to go see Betty.” Jughead listened, amused, as he watched the feisty brown-haired man in front of him. He was just as tall as Jughead, with wide-set shoulders. His face was angular and had eyes that were a deep brown.

Kevin has been giving Joaquin a hard time since he had gotten there. From the moment that Jughead come to settle down the Serpents till now, Kevin had been firing off questions like he was part of the Inquisition.

“Where is Betty? Is she alright? I want to see her. Why won't you let me see her?”

Jughead has been watching this for about five minutes now and the questions were nowhere near slowing down. When Kevin demanded that Joaquin get the hell out of his way Jughead barked out a laugh, which turned out, was a fatal mistake. 

“Who the hell are you? Standing there, laughing at me. Is there something funny to you about kidnapping young women and performing surgery that should be done by a doctor?”

Jughead couldn't help but smile even brighter. There weren't too many people that were brave enough to stand up to him.

Between the blonde, Betty, he reminded himself, and Kevin there was enough feistiness to keep him entertained for days.

The brown-eyed men narrowed his eyes even further at Jughead and Jughead took a step forward. He noticed that some of the fire died down in Kevin's eyes, which Jughead smirked at. He has amused by the fire in Kevin, but respected that the man knew when to be afraid. 

Jughead turned to face Joaquin and gave him a good slap on the back. If this is who you've been sneaking off in the middle of the night to go see? “I can see the intrigue, Quin.” Jughead chuckled and made his way over to the booth where Penny and Sweet Pea were waiting for him.

He chuckled as he heard Kevin furiously whispering to Joaquin, no doubt about what Jughead had just said to him. 

He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Kevin glaring at Joaquin, obviously mad at the Serpent sharing private information. Jughead chuckled to himself again knowing that while Joaquin had shared no real information, he had still managed to guess enough to anger both men. 

His smile sobered when he came to sit with Sweet Pea and Penny. They were waiting for him dutifully. It hadn’t taken much to calm down the rest of the Serpents after Betty and the redhead had gone upstairs. Jughead had simply walked down and announced that there was a free shot for everyone at the bar. He had chuckled at the look of exasperation on the bartender’s face, a short, latina girl with pink hair.  

“What the fuck, Jones?” She had yelled, as the leather-clad men swarmed the bar. 

“What do we do now, Jug?” He was brought back to the two young Serpents sitting in front of him.

“I haven't really worked that part out yet, Pea. But they are not leaving until we get some answers. I didn't stick my neck out for some random girl so we could get left in the dark.”

It was almost as if Jugheads words summoned the two people that were hidden away upstairs. Jughead heard the boots on the staircase before he saw them. He watched, half-raised out of the booth, as the redhead’s lean body revealed itself as he made his way downstairs. 

The man was carrying Betty down the stairs gracefully as if she weighed nothing. Which Jughead knew for a fact that she didn’t. 

Jughead fully stood up from his place in the booth and came to move to the bottom of the staircase. “Headed out so soon?” he questioned softly, not wanting to raise the attention of the Serpents around him. 

“Get out of the way. I'm taking her home.” His voice was stern and arrogant and it grated on Jughead's nerves. He clenched his teeth and tried to remain calm

“Listen. We need to know what's going on. Some kind of explanation of what the hell happened.”

He watched his Betty sighed, her head pressed up against Archie's neck.

“I said get out of the way. We don't owe you any explanations.” Jughead watched as the man’s hazel eyes softened just a bit. “I appreciate you picking her up and bring her here, but I need to take her home. She’s been through a lot.”

Jughead looked back in astonishment. He wasn't used to people telling him no and he certainly wasn't used to people denying him what he requested. Jughead like to think of himself as fairly level-headed but the only reason he was level-headed was because people did as he said. 

He hated that people feared him, but it got the job done and it made his life easier in most case. He knew at times he was a bomb waiting to go off, with too short of a fuse. He felt the fuse inside him crackling and struggled to keep himself under control.

“I don't think you understand the position you're in,” Jughead said darkly, “I stuck my neck out today to make sure she lived. Don’t you think I deserve some kind of explanation as to why I had to do that?”

Again he watched as the redhead steeled himself ready to take some kind of action but he was stopped by the blonde in his arms. The exhaustion was evident in her eyes. “Arch. It doesn't matter. We can tell them what happened. They’re Southsiders, maybe they can actually give some insight into what we're looking for.”

Betty stuck out her hand towards Jughead, “I’m Betty, this is Archie.” Jughead eyed her hand for a moment before reaching out to take it. Her hands were calloused and rough, cuts and scrapes littering them. He shook her hand quickly and let it go. He watched as Betty nudged the man holding her in the chest, jerking her head in Jughead’s direction. 

Archie sighed and shifted her slightly, taking an arm off her back and offering his hand to Jughead. Jughead chuckled lowly at the scene unfolding in front of him, he wondered how someone who seemed so powerful and full of rage could be controlled by someone so small. 

He took the outstretched hand and shook it, gripping hard. He knew it was dumb and a thinly-veiled attempt at showing dominance, but he couldn’t help it. What he wasn’t expecting was for the redhead to grip back twice as hard, causing a shot of pain to make its way up Jughead’s arm.

Archie clenched his jaw and Jughead wondered how tightly someone to clench their jaw before they would shatter. He glared at Archie and Archie glared back at him as if both men were in a standoff.

Betty nudged Archie again and Jughead was relieved that his hand was released. He nodded in the direction of the booth, letting Archie walk in front of him. He gripped his wrist with his unsqueezed hand, giving the appendage a little shake to hopefully bring some blood back into it. His head jerked up when he heard a quiet chuckle. He narrowed his eyes as he met the eyes of the blonde over Archie’s shoulder, knowing that she had seen him nursing his hand, however subtly he might have been trying to do so. 

Archie brought her to the booth that Jughead motioned to and laid her down gently on the cushion. Betty slid back into the booth as far as she could trying to make room for Archie. Once Archie sat down beside her, Jughead came to sit across from them.

“Alright,” Jughead said calmly, “Let's start with the simplest of questions. You wouldn't let me take you to the hospital because you were afraid someone was going to find you. Who?”

He watched as the blonde and redhead across from him exchanged a small look. He cleared his throat lately and they both snapped their attention back to him.

“The Ghoulies.” Betty answered. “I was running from the Ghoulies.”

“What would the Ghoulies possibly want with you?” He tried to keep the disgust and judgment from seeping into his voice but failed. The Ghoulies were as nasty as it came, and if Betty was involved in some war with them, that didn’t say a lot of good things about her.

The blonde across from him gave him an indignant look. “What do you mean ‘what could they possibly want from me?’ As if I’m too ugly to be desired by even the Ghoulies? Or do I look like some Southside, trashy hooker to you?”

“Betts, take it easy.” Archie’s voice was soft and comforting, making Jughead scoff. “What the fuck is your problem, buddy?”

“I don’t have a problem,  _ buddy,  _ but your girl here isn’t being too forthcoming with the specifics, so I’ll ask again. What do the Ghoulies want with you?”

He watched as Betty contemplated something to herself. Whatever she was thinking, she had obviously decided to continue answering his questions. 

“I was looking for something in the basement of the Cemetery. They caught me before I could find what I needed and get out.”

Jughead felt his jaw slacken but hastily moved to close it again. “You were snooping around the basement of the most notorious gang on this side of the tracks?” He deadpanned, “Do you have a fucking death wish or something?”

He watched as the redhead’s fists tightened. He could see that he had struck a nerve and he would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't enjoy getting under the larger man's skin.

“You know, before insults continue to be tossed around, I think we probably need a formal introduction.” the blonde said. Although Jughead already knew what her and the redhead’s names were he realized that they had no clue who he was. He stuck out his hand, knowing that he was coming off cocky, but not caring enough to change his attitude. 

“Jughead Jones.”

“Archie Andrews.” the redhead said as he shook his hand. At the mention of Andrews, Jughead’s eyebrow cocked up slightly. He took a hard look at the boy and saw a reflected in his older features now the face of the small child he used to play with. 

He almost opened his mouth to say something but saw Archie give an imperceptible shake of his head. He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering why the man in front of him wouldn't want him to talk about their brief shared childhood. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the scene around him getting more and more entangled.

He took another glance at Archie's face. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the similarities before. He chalked it up to an overabundance of adrenaline bursting through his veins.

He moved to the blonde and extended his hand which she took in a firm handshake, something he wasn't expecting. “Betty Cooper,” she said

The name Cooper tickled at the back of his brain for a moment but he couldn't quite place it. 

He looked at her face again now in the light and while she was awake. Again her features struck Jughead in a way that almost made him breathless. She obviously hadn't gotten enough rest yet but some of the fire was back in those eyes like he had assumed. Her blonde hair was matted and disheveled but still somehow look amazing. Jughead now noticed that she was even thinner than he had initially thought. Looking at her frame he figured that this was not an intentional decision.

She cleared her throat gently across from him and he realized he had been caught staring. He shook his head slightly trying to clear his mind and slapped his patent ‘Jughead Jones’ glare back onto his face. He felt the ice in his veins start to harden just slightly, the defense mechanism working its way through his body. Like a fight or flight response that always chose fight.

_ “So,” he drawled out “tell me your story.” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my life force, I love hearing from you guys so don't be shy! thanks for all your kudos and comments so far! Follow me on tumblr at crescentmoonmadness and we can chat some more!


	5. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygosh it's been a long time! Let me tell you, I am so happy that I can finally get this chapter out. I have so much exciting news to share with you guys! So first of all, school is finally done, so I'm as free as a bird. I have so much time to write now as the only job I have during the summer months is working for my parents business. So (she says with bated breath) hopefully, you all can expect some more consistent updates! Secondly, my husband and I found out in March that we are expecting!. Between feeling sick all the time and going to doctor's appointments, it was hard to find the motivation to write, but I am so happy to be done this chapter and share it with you guys! This chapter really kicked my butt, I probably rewrote the beginning five times before I was finally happy with it...call it writer's perfectionism I guess. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and if you do leave a kudos or a comment. I love talking to you guys! Also, if you feel like chatting more, I am crescentmoonmadness on Tumblr and I am on there literally all the time (call it an addiction). 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 5 of I Deal in Ice.

Betty watched the patrons of the bar mill around, seeing all kinds of men and women chatting and laughing, drinks in hand. They all donned the patent Serpent’s leather jacket, but Betty couldn’t help but notice that most of these people didn’t really hold up the ‘scary biker’ stereotype that had always been associated with the gang.

A gentle hand on her forearm caused her to look up, seeing that both Archie and the man across from her, Jughead, as he had introduced himself, were waiting for her to begin. She cleared her throat and looked down at the table, feeling the bile rise up in her throat at the thought of sharing her story.

“I don't even know where to begin,” Betty admitted, her chest feeling heavy and her mind feeling tired.

“Just start at the beginning, Betts.” She smiled at Archie’s reassuring words, feeling his hand rub her arm soothingly. Her tongue poked out to wet her lips and she took one last deep breath before launching into the story of how she had ended up on the highway, cold and bleeding, that morning.

* * *

  _One Month Ago_

She approached the Register, door slightly ajar, which was unusual enough to raise her guard. She hadn't heard from her father in days, which was what incited her trip down to his office. When she walked inside the destruction of the small office was strewn to every corner of the building. Her stomach dropped through to her feet at the sight of papers ripped and torn scattered all over the floor.

She frantically called her father and got his overly cheery voicemail message.

She hung up and tried again, panic setting in, her breath hitching in the back of her throat. _Please,_ she thought to herself,   _please pick up._ She called again, and again. Still no answer from her father. She dialed the next number on her speed dial, begging under her breath for the man to pick up on the other end.

“Archie! Thank God. Get down to the Register. Something’s wrong.”

The redhead made it down to the Register in record time, Betty didn’t even want to know how fast he had driven to get there as quickly as he did. Her own apprehension was mirrored in his eyes as she watched him look at the office in front of him.

“Jesus, Betty. What happened?” She looked into his brown eyes, normally alight with laughter. Now they were widened in horror. She started to cry, not by choice, but from the suffocating feeling of worry. Archie walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, completely encasing her within his circle of muscles, rubbing her back in small circles.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly, the sound of his voice muffled by her hair, “everything is alright. We’ll figure this out together.”

She nodded her head, hoping that his words would ring true. 

* * *

  _Three Weeks Ago_

They still hadn’t found anything. The office was in ruins and there was no trace of evidence of where her father had gone. There was no paper or email trail, not even a scrap of paper that would give Betty a decent lead on what to do next. Archie had been begging her to file a missing person report for a couple days now, but Betty could feel that something was off. It didn’t feel like a normal missing person’s case, and something in her gut kept telling her that if she got the police involved it would only make things worse.  

They ended up organizing the mess instead. If anyone came by it would be suspicious to have the office looking like it did. It was during this worry-induced clean up that Betty finally found a lead. She had been scrolling through her father’s texts, looking for anything that didn’t look normal. Hal normally had lots of unentered contacts in his phone, in order to keep his sources a little more confidential in the occurrence that his phone got stolen, but one number, in particular, had stuck out to Betty.

The texter had been getting aggravated with her father, threatening her father that there would be consequences for actions that Betty couldn’t determine from the texts alone. While it wasn’t normal, Betty knew this kind of thing happened sometimes. As the sole owner of the Register, a lot of the complaints came straight to Hal when one of his more _hard-hitting_ pieces was poorly received amongst the townspeople.

What was different about this number was Hal’s reaction. Usually, Hal would kindly, but firmly, respond to criticisms, but this time he almost seemed scared.

_Did you get the shipment?_

_Yes, I got it._

_When will the delivery happen?_

_I’m not sure. It’s not safe right now._

_Cooper, you better get your shit together.  
_ _Remember the deal._

_I remember your deal. Leave her out of this.  
_ _You’ll get your shipment._

Betty had looked at the texts, again and again, naively thinking that maybe by reading the same words over and over perhaps she would manifest a new lead all by herself.

That night as she sat on the couch in her shared apartment, eyes boring into the screen of her father’s phone, she worked up the nerve to press the call button resting beside the contact information. The phone rang once, twice, thr - then someone picked up.

There was so much noise on the other end Betty could barely hear the speaker’s voice.

“Hello?” The voice was gruff and severe as if Betty had taken them away from something dire.

“Hello? Who is this?” There was more cheering and the sounds of bottles smashing on the other end of the line, followed by a harsh scoff from the speaker.

“You called me, darling. Who is _this?_ ” Betty floundered for a moment, not wanting to give away her real name. She listened intently to the background noise, hoping for anything that would give her more information. She heard the cacophony of noise quiet down, and her stomach sank as she realized that the speaker was moving somewhere quieter.

“You know,” the voice rumbled again, “you sound like a good time. Why don’t you come down here and we can have some fun together?”

Betty’s stomach rolled at the lewd words, but she saw her opening and only hesitated for a moment before taking it. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper before replying, “I would love that. Where are you?” She prayed that the speaker would take the bait, hoping that she sounded convincing enough.

“The Cemetery on Southside.”

“I’ll be there,” she replied, no longer trying to keep her voice sultry. She pulled the phone away from her face and pressed the end button as quickly as she could, hastily moving into the settings and blocking the number she had called. She didn’t need anyone calling her back at her dad’s number, especially that man.

She huffed out a sigh and laid her head on the back of her couch. At least now she knew what to do next.

* * *

  _Two Weeks Ago_

At first, she had thought the man had meant a real cemetery, but after a quick search online she realized that there were none that would be close to a source of noise that would equal what she had heard in the background of the phone call.

She widened her search to the entire Southside area with only one suitable match. A bar on the Southside named The Cemetery. There was nothing helpful on the web page except for some poorly taken photographs, a phone number that didn’t work, and an address.

She was sitting on her bed with her laptop, which she pushed aside to stand up. She walked to the next door down the hall and knocked quietly. A soft _come in_ filtered through the door.

Upon seeing her face, the tenant inside the room sat up from his lying position and greeted her warmly. “Hey, Betty, what’s up?” His cheerful voice was always a welcome addition to her day, as well as the sunshine that he seemed to carry around with him.

“Hey Arch, I got a lead on my dad.” She waited with bated breath for Archie’s reply, hoping that he would ask more.

“That’s great Betty!” Archie smiled until he saw the confliction in her eyes, then his smile seemed to slip right off his face. “Why do I get the feeling that it’s not as easy as I think it is?”

Betty smiled wryly. “Because it’s never that simple. I don't really know if my dad is where I think he is. I just know that this bar is the only thing that links to him right now.” There was a short silence and then Archie’s quiet reply.

“So when are we going to scout it out?”

* * *

They had dressed the part for their stakeout. All black, down to the shoes and toques that sat on their heads. The people milling around the outside were all cloaked in leather, the patches on their backs sporting ghoulish figures.

They waited until one man separated from the pack out front, moving into the back alley. Archie and Betty snuck up behind him and startled him, causing the biker to pull a knife out from his pocket. Archie quickly grabbed the knife from the man and threw it down, it proved to be not much of a struggle as the man was drunker than anyone Betty had ever seen.

Betty watched as Archie punched the man in the nose, only once, but the sickening crunch was enough for her stomach to twist into unpleasant knots.

“Arch,” she placed a hand on his arm, peering up into his eyes, knowing that hers were widened in horror. He nodded once a took a small step back, close enough to step in, but far enough to give her some space.

“If someone were to not follow through on a delivery, where would that end them up?” She tried to be straightforward, no niceties, no warming him up, straight to the questions. That’s what Archie had made her promise.

The man spat at the ground by her feet. “You must be fucking crazy if you think that I’d talk to a Northside bitch.” She felt rather than saw Archie press forward, watched as his hand found the man’s jacket again, but again Betty put her hand on Archie’s arm, roughly pushing it down.

“I think I have something that might persuade you,” she muttered. She dug into her pocket, past her house keys and grabbed the small bag that she had gotten from Kevin earlier that day, swiped from the evidence lock up at the police station.

She held the small bag of white powder directly in front of the man’s face, watching as his pupil’s dilated at the sight of the eight ball. “Feel like talking now?” she asked quietly.

The drunk scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Betty could see the desperation lingering underneath.

“Answer the question and you can have it.” The man darted his tongue out to wet his lips, then spoke.

“If a shipment was expected and nothing came then the person you’re looking for is there.” Betty following the man’s outstretched hand, his finger pointing to the basement of the bar.

“In the basement?” she questioned. The man simply nodded, never taking his eyes off of the bag in her hand. She held out the bag and felt it be quickly snatched from her hand. The man took off into the alley, disappearing into the darkness that the streetlights couldn’t reach.

* * *

“Betty, this is stupid.” Betty scoffed at her plan being called stupid, but Archie barreled on. “We could come back any night and do your plan, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Betty turned to look up into Archie’s face. “Yes it does,” she said with finality. “Archie, tell me honestly if this was your dad would you wait one more second before you went to save him?”

The silence hung between them like a lead anvil. Archie didn’t need to reply. She knew his answer. He would no sooner leave his father for one moment longer than he had to than she would.

“Alright fine,” he conceded, “but be quick. In and out, no sleuthing.”

She smiled at his concession, her bright smile blinding in the darkness. “You got it, boss.” She threw him a wink while lowering herself into the basement window.

She quickly went to check the doors lining the hallway. Most were nothing special. A bed or a chair in the corner, maybe a nightstand. It was the other rooms that were more concerning to her. Rooms that had dark stairs in the middle of the floor, windows that were barred up, chains lying in the corner. Those rooms make her skin crawl.

She had barely gotten down the first hallway of doors when things went awry. She heard steps coming down the stairs, and she started down another hallway, looking for somewhere to hide.

Betty was running low on time, seeing the long shadow of the man coming down the stairs shorten as he neared the bottom. She threw herself into a room, clicking the door shut quietly behind herself. She waited, holding her hand over her mouth to stifling the sounds of her breathing. She heard the doors opening and closing one at a time as the man walked down the hallway.

_Shit,_ she thought. She pressed herself into the corner behind the door, as there was nowhere else for her to hide in the barren room. The creaking doors got closer and closer until finally, her door opened. She saw the man through the crack in the doorjamb. Lanky, tall, covered in tattoos. She walked fully into the room and Betty pressed herself impossible close to the wall, hoping his gaze wouldn’t venture over to her corner.

Her hope was blind and as the man saw her a twisted grin broke over her face.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? You look a little lost sweetheart.”

* * *

  _Present_

Betty pressed her eyes closed after the retelling of her story, clutching Archie’s hand the whole time, her knuckles white with the pressure. She had purposefully left out the last two weeks that she had been with the Ghoulies. The man in front of her had asked what the Ghoulies wanted with her. She had told that story. Anything that had happened to her under the floorboards of the Cemetery was a whole other story, once that she wasn’t willing to tell yet. She tried to calm her racing heartbeat, hoping that Jughead wouldn’t notice the missing gaps in her retelling.

She could have only been so lucky. Jughead didn’t look like the kind of man that would have the wool pulled over his eyes so easily, and Betty was right in that assumption.

“That’s it? And I suppose they just let you go? No, blondie, I think you’re leaving out some important details there. Please, continue. I need to know exactly what we are dealing with here.”

“You aren’t dealing with anything.” Archie forcefully said. Betty saw Jughead’s eyes glance over Archie’s face, the blue depths lingering on the cut above his eyebrow. Betty rested her hand on Archie’s arm, willing him to calm down.

“You asked me what they wanted with me. They had my father and I was caught snooping. I answered your question.” She tried to keep her voice from wavering, knowing that she was losing her ability to stay strong by the minute. She needed to go home. She needed to find her father, who still was out there somewhere. She needed a lot of things, and none of them would be found in this run down, sub-par, gangbanger joint.

She watched as Jughead raised an eyebrow and she wondered how anyone could look so smug while doing so little. His attitude was grating on her nerves, which were just about shot after the last four weeks she had endured.

“There’s nothing that happened in the last two weeks that will surprise you, nor is there anything that’s important to me finding my father. I’d prefer to move on with my life and not relive it,” she muttered this quietly at the table, not able to look him in the eyes as she spoke the words. She felt Archie rub his thumb over hers gently, trying desperately to console her. Her heart melted at the feeling. She had gotten over her romantic feelings towards Archie ages ago, probably sometime back in high school, but he was her best friend. There was no one that she would rather have sitting at her side through this.

She raised her head at the sound of shifting across the table. Jughead was giving her a look, one that she couldn’t decipher.

“I think it’s calmed down enough here for you to head home.” Her eyebrows shot up at the man across from her. She didn’t expect for him to drop his inquisition so easily. “I think you should come back in a couple days,” he continued. “We still have lots to discuss, but you look like you need about a week’s worth of sleep,” he paused and drug his eyes over her quickly, “and food.”

Archie wasted no time. He gently nudged her out of the booth, coming to stand at his full height beside her. She was still pretty unsteady on her feet, and Archie wrapped an arm around her waist to take some of the weight off her injured leg.

“Ready?” She nodded gently to Archie’s question, not wanting him to feel the need to pick her up again. All her life she had perfected the art of looking strong and never being weak, and having Archie out of a bar was not going to live up to that standard.

He helped her get turned around towards to door, doing some impressive juggling of limbs to make it work. They had already started to take a couple of steps when Betty looked over her shoulder. She was expecting to see Jughead looking anywhere but directly at her, but that’s exactly where his eyes were focused. She took in a small rush of air as his stormy blue eyes pierced right through her. She paused for a moment, causing Archie to look back to see what had made her stop her movement.

Her and Jughead remained like that for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime. Both staring at one another, two perfect strangers. Archie jostled her slightly while trying to get a better hold on her, bringing her back to her body.

“Thank you,” she all but whispered, but he seemed to hear the words because at that moment he gave her a slight nod and smirked again.

“See you around blondie,” he replied, “and try to take care of yourself until then.”

Betty scoffed as she turned towards the door again.

“Kevin,” Archie barked, “we’re leaving.” Kevin came to stand on her other side, wrapping another arm around her middle to give her more stability. He looked sheepish at the reprimand by Archie, but Betty sent him a grateful smile. Kevin knew when to hold back and when to put on the pressure. He always knew what she needed, and she knew in her heart that he had kept his distance at the Wyrm because he knew she needed the space.

The man she walked away from was an enigma. One moment he was caring and protective, and the next he was taunting her with barbs of steel. As she walked through the bar door and saw the light of day she knew, deep in her heart, that she would be seeing Jughead Jones again, sooner than she would have liked. 

* * *

 They rode in silence until they left the Southside, Betty staring out the window of the passenger's seat and Archie driving carefully through the streets. Kevin sat in the back seat, huffing occasionally. He still hadn’t spoken and Betty was endlessly sending thankful vibes his way for keeping his line of questioning at bay. Betty watched as the Southside decay slowly faded into the Northside charm.

It was slow, a few less rundown buildings, the occasional upkept house. It was these people who lived in the so-called “transition area” that Betty thought had it the worst. There were such clear lines for everyone else in the far North and Southsides. The people in the middle often had to choose a side, despite the fact that they had lives on both sides.

They arrived at Kevin’s soon after they crossed into the Northside. Kevin lived in a quaint apartment with his roommate Veronica. She was a post-New York princess whose father had disowned after her dismissal of the family business. Family business being short term for the mob. With little to no money to her name and only the clothes she could fit in a suitcase, she had come to Riverdale, where her parents had grown up, in search of a simple life. She had shortly met Kevin and the rest was history. Betty and Veronica got along great, and as of lately, the raven-haired girl had been spending more and more time and her apartment, but that may have been due to a ginger-haired motive.

Kevin got out of the car and Betty rolled down her window to say goodbye. Before she could get the words out, though, Kevin delicately grabbed her chin and brought her gaze to his.

“We are not done talking about this,” he muttered, eyes flashing to Archie, “but I have the feeling that if I press you anymore today your golden retriever might bite. Get some rest, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Betty sighed gratefully at Kevin’s barely concealed excuse.

She knew he wasn’t really all that afraid of Archie, but he cared for her enough to hold his questions just a little longer. And that was all she could ask of him right now. Archie put the car back into drive as soon as Kevin stepped away from the curb and Betty watched as her friend entered his apartment lobby in her side view mirror.

The rest of the ride home was filled with the soft sounds of radio and oncoming traffic, Betty leaving her window down to rest her chin on the door. The wind played with the wisps of her hair that fell loose from her ponytail, usually tight and slick, but now drooping and lackluster. She looked at herself in the mirror protruding from the car and her eyes teared up at what she saw.

Dark purple bags that spoke of sleepless nights, alabaster skin that hadn’t seen the sun in two weeks, green eyes that were missing their spark, a defeated look in them. She hadn’t realized that she was crying until she felt Archie’s palm on her leg, rubbing reassuringly. She glanced at him quickly, giving him a watery smile before bringing her sweater up to rub the tears away from her face.

She looked out the window once more and saw the familiar landmarks that meant she was getting close to home. The coffee shop on the corner, the red mailbox that she visited often, the park that was flooded with children all summer. The tan building appeared as they turned the last corner, and Betty felt a trill of happiness at finally being home. Archie pressed a button on the remote hanging from his visor and Betty watched as the underground parking garage door rose in front of them. The redhead pulled into their parking spot, 4D, and put the car into park. She barely had time to get her door open and swing her good leg out before Archie materialized in front of her.

“Seriously, Arch. I can walk around by myself. I have a cut, not an amputation.” Archie leveled her snark with a glare, which she would have laughed at if she had the energy. Archie was about as threatening as a teddy bear.

“Betty, why do you think I work out so much?” Betty shrugged her shoulders as she pulled herself to stand upright beside the taller man. Before she knew it he was sweeping her off her feet again, bumping the door shut with his hip. Betty let go of an uncharacteristic squeak as Archie began to speak again. “To carry around damsels in distress of course.”

Betty rolled her eyes at being called a damsel in distress. She knew that the torture she had endured in the last two weeks made her anything but, and it made her heart clench painfully in her ribs to even think of the pain that she had gone through.

Archie seemed to notice the change in her demeanor and muttered gently, “Hey, you know I’m kidding. I don’t know anyone stronger than you. Just let me take care of you for once, okay?” Betty looked into his brown eyes, the depths swirling around his iris. He was the kindest and most caring person she knew, and she knew there was no one better to have in her corner.

“Okay,” she whispered under her breath, bring her arms to circle around his neck. Her head found its way onto his shoulder and she felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. Her mind flew back to the scene she had seen at the bar just a couple of hours earlier. Archie, her mild-mannered, docile best friend, throwing punches and demanding her release. She supposed it was unfair of her to think of him as tame and safe, he had proven today that there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to for her.

He pressed the elevator button and brought them into the awaiting elevator. She reached in front of her, pushing the _4_ button before he had to ask her. The silence filled the metal box until it was deafening. She knew he wanted to talk, knew that he wouldn’t leave it alone until he got answers for the missing two weeks that she had left out of her narrative that morning.

The doors dinged and opened, revealing a narrow hallway with a handful of doors down it. Archie walked them to 4D and moved to set her down, his arm staying wrapped around her as he fished his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door.

Betty inhaled a deep breath of the scent of the apartment. Nothing has changed in the two weeks she’d been missing. Not that she had honestly expected much change. She walked in with Archie still at her side and took in the layout of the home she had come to miss. The open concept kitchen, with its high counter separating the small dining area from the rest of the kitchen. Everything was still as clean as she had left it, leading her to believe that no one had been spending too much time here.

She disentangled herself from Archie and came to stand in the small living room if you could call it that. It sat on the other side of a small hallway, directly across from the dining area. In it sat an old loveseat and a single seat chair. The TV sat against the wall and again, everything was still in its place. She lowered herself onto the love seat and felt the couch dip as Archie came to sit beside her.

“I know you’re tired, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think you need to, Betts. I understand not wanting to tell the snake, but it's me. You know you can trust me.” Betty closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. She knew he was right. She knew she had to talk about what had happened to her down in the basement of the Cemetery. She also knew the minute she started talking about it, it would all become real. She wasn’t ready for that, but if she was going to move on from it, she had no other choice.

“Okay, Arch.” She waited a moment, gathering the courage to delve into the story when Archie spoke again.

“Would it be easier if I asked you questions?” Betty smiled lightly at the suggestion, leave it to Archie for suggesting a simple solution to a more than complicated problem. People often thought the redhead was vapid, but Betty knew there was a lot more going on up there than he was willing to admit. She nodded her agreement and waited for Archie’s first question, eyes closed and head resting back on the couch.

She was grateful that Archie started her off with an easy question. “What was it like down there?”

Betty thought for a moment before answering. “Dark, there was no window in the room I was in, just a single light bulb. It always seemed damp and cold, like there was water seeping from the walls. Soundproof. I realized after the first few hours that if I couldn't hear the bar then they couldn’t hear me either. It saved me from losing my voice from screaming for help. The door was thick and heavy, it had to have been solid metal. There was a small door at the bottom that they would push food through every day. I had a bed and a toilet and a chair. That’s it.”

Archie seemed like he was already ready to stop his questioning, but she soldiered on. Betty watched as his eyes glanced over her body, which she knew was skinny and malnourished, bones protruding wherever they could. She knew his next question before it even left his lips.

“How often did they feed you?” Betty brought her arms to wrap around her miniscule stomach.

“About once a day, I think. It was always scraps, half-eaten sandwiches or soups. For the first couple days I was too revolted at the idea of sharing food with someone unknown, but when the menu didn’t get any better I…” she paused, thinking of how disgusting the first few times were, imagining somebody else’s mouth on food that she had no choice but to eat. “I did what I had to do. They never left me enough to actually fill my stomach. I was always hungry.”

Another pause, and then, “Did you ever try to escape?”

A choked laugh came from Betty’s mouth. “The first day they came in the check on me I threw a chair at them. I managed to knock one to the ground, turned out it was their leader. That’s when the torture started.”

This time Archie’s voice was a quiet whisper, “What did they do to you?”

“They chained me to the chair and asked me questions. Why I was there. What I was doing snooping around. If I knew this person or that person. When I didn’t cooperate or give them an answer they liked they would punish me.” She waited, knowing what was coming next, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist knowing the whole story, and also knowing that she had to share it. She had to put it out in the open, because maybe if she did I would stop replaying in her mind every time she closed her eyes.

“How?” The tears started coming as soon as the word was uttered.

“Sometimes it was just a minion, and those times were never that bad. They would slap me across the face, or push me over while I was tied to the chair. It was nothing compared to when Malachi would come in on his own.” Betty felt her heart rate increase and her palms sweat, just thinking about the Ghoulie leader made her whole body shake in fear.

“He was the only one who would let me out of the chair,” she whispered, “he would pin me on the ground and pour water on my face until I felt like I couldn’t breathe, felt like I was drowning. Then other times he would make me take off all my clothes and take them away. I would sit on the bed as men walked by, looking in to stare at me.” She felt Archie’s fist clench on his lap and she was quick to grab it, whispering into his palm, “They never touched me, not like that.” She felt his grip loosen slightly in her grasp.

“Good,” he muttered darkly, “None of this is ok, Betts. But if he had crossed that line…” A pregnant pause hung between them until Archie spoke again. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had to go through that.”

Betty’s mouth twisted into a dark mirror of a smile, “That wasn’t the worst thing he did. There were days where he would lock himself in with me. He would sit an inch away from the bed and just watch me, and if I closed my eyes or started to fall asleep, he would cut me.” With this final confession, Betty’ throat closed up and bile began to rise in her stomach, the thought of having the vile man so close to her, cutting her over and over again, making her convulse with sobs. She quickly dug her nails into her palms, trying to gain back some semblance of control.

The habit had started when she was trying to keep herself awake in Malachi’s presence. She had hoped the pain would be enough to keep her awake, but there were times that she was so exhausted nothing would help. She thought back to her final hours in the basement, reliving the one moment that she would never tell anyone. The one moment that was too horrifying to utter out loud.

She had been awake for God knows how long. She was starting to seeing things move out of the corners of her eyes. She had thought at the time she was going crazy. She had closed her eyes for just a moment, when _his_ hand wrapped around her ankle, pulling it out straight, and before she could kick him off he was pressing his knife into her thigh, harder and deeper than anything he had done before. She had watched as his face became fascinated with the trickling blood, how he had run his hand over the cut and collected her life force on his fingertips.

Betty stomach twisted as the memory of what happened next assaulted her mind. His bloody hands coming up to grab her face, holding it still in his painful grasp. His body coming to rest over hers, his legs caging hers in. She tried to move her body out from under him, but he was simply too big. Her heart pounded in her chest as his mouth came to cover hers, sloppy and wet, the metallic taste of her blood on his lips. She waited for it to be over, for him to tire of him unresponsive lips. She felt him getting hard on top of her and she almost puked but was unable to do anything, even breathe.

She felt the warmth of her blood on her leg and felt the fuzzy confusion in her head that she knew meant too much blood loss. She just remembered wishing she would die, wishing that it would all be over and then the door behind them had banged open, causing the man on top of her to finally break away and growl a menacing, “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Betty pulled her mind away from the memory, breathing stilted and labored from reliving the worst moment in her life. She hadn’t noticed until now that Archie had pried her nails away from her palms and was holding her bloodied hands in his, doing his best to wrap her up in his arms. When her breathing finally even out she opened her mouth to speak again, but Archie quickly interrupted her.

“You don’t need to talk about it anymore. I’m sorry for making you talk about it. God, I’m so sorry.” She could now feel the hot streaks of tears running down her neck, which she knew didn’t belong to her.

“I have to finish Arch. It’s okay.” She pulled a hand from his grasp and brought it to his face, pulling her body back so she could see his brown eyes. “It’s not your fault, Arch. It never will be.”

Archie nodded, even though she knew he didn’t believe her. “Ask the last question,” she whispered.

He looked at her again, eyes filled with tears as he uttered the words she needed him to speak. “How did you get out?”

Betty took a deep breath before starting. In truth, it had been the man who had barged in on her and Malachi that had helped her escape, but she wouldn’t tell him that part. She would never tell anybody that part.

“Malachi had been in the room with me, keeping me from sleeping, when the door suddenly burst open and a man stood there. At first, I thought it was you, Arch.” The redhead’s eyebrows raised at this. “His hair was so red and it was all I could see. I was so delirious from losing so much blood. The man walked into the room and punch Malachi right in the face. It knocked him out cold. Then before I knew it, the man had picked me up and started carrying me towards the stairs. Once I tried to pull my head back and get a look at who he was, but the best I could tell was that he had red hair, but he wasn’t you. His eyes were this crystal clue that reminded me of forget-me-nots.” She took a breath before continuing.

“He took me up a set of stairs, but they didn’t lead into the bar like I thought they would. The door opened up outside. It was so dark I could barely see anything, but in the distance, I could see the sun starting to rise. He set me down and made sure I could stand up straight but telling me to run. After that, he pushed me all the way out the door and slammed it in my face. I still had no clue who he was or why he was helping me, but I ran anyways. I ran into the woods. I don’t even know how I ran so far on this leg, but I came out at the highway and that’s when Jughead picked me up.” She finished speaking, the silence hanging around the, in the small apartment.

“Jesus Christ, Betts,” Archie muttered. He had stifled his tears and was now looking at her in awe, making her looking down at her lap. She didn’t feel like anything she had done in the past two weeks was worthy of that admiration. She had been tortured, abused, destroyed, and left in the cold. All because she needed answers. Answers that she still didn’t have. She couldn’t help the feeling of uselessness and powerlessness that came over her. She had endured so much pain and had received nothing in spite of it. She felt stupid and more alone than ever.

* * *

Jughead paced the hallway above the bar, unable to let his whirling mind calm. He had a gut feeling this wasn’t over. It never was with the Ghoulies. It had occurred to him about ten minutes after she left that if Malachi had been driving around this morning looking for her, then he would continue looking for her, and as stupid and unorganized he liked to make the Ghoulies out to be, their leader wasn’t. Malachi wouldn’t stop looking until he found her and killed her. No loose ends. Betty had managed to escape once, but he knew that she wouldn’t get that lucky again.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, messy from being constantly pulled at. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. It wasn’t his problem, as the ginger had so aptly out early that day, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had a reputation of being ruthless, but he never hurt innocents and he knew that if he did nothing, Betty would suffer. He stopped pacing and turned to the stairs, bounding down them three at a time.

He barked his orders before he reached the bar floor, his dark voice heard above the regular bar patrons. “Pea! Penny!” The two Serpent’s emerged from their booth, looking at him questioningly.

“Yeah, boss?” Sweet Pea’s drawled. Jughead came to stand in front of the two, hands crossed over his chest.

“I want you two to go set up shop outside the blonde’s apartment. Get the address from Toni, I’m sure she’s already looked it up and everything else about her just for fun. You and I both know that Malachi is going to try something tonight.” Sweet Pea looked ready to complain, but his words stalled on his lips when he saw the look of Jughead’s face, one of power and that left no room for arguments.

Penny didn’t say anything, just simply ran her hand along his face, giving it two quick pats as she walked away. “Hero complex,” she whispered.

Jughead rolled his eyes and scowled, doing his best to ignore his words. She could say what she wanted, but he wasn’t about to knowingly let someone die if he could prevent it.

* * *

“Yes, I want to cancel the plan.” Betty waited as the woman on the other end of the phone spoke. “Yes, and I’ll be in sometime this week to come set up a new one, as well as get a new phone.” The woman bid her a good day and hung up. Betty flopped back against the couch, listening to Archie bump around in the kitchen. She had borrowed his phone to call and answer cancel hers. She had no clue if it was destroyed or not, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Archie came into the living room, two bowls of soup in his hands. He placed them lightly on the coffee table and sat beside Betty again. After she had finished telling him everything, Archie had decided she needed something to eat. She knew that really he just needed something to do with his hands so that they would stop shaking, but she appreciated his effort. He had announced that soup was what they were having, in an attempt to “reintroduce her stomach to food” as he had put it. Betty gave him a smile as he looked over to her, worry still evident on his face.

She reached over and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. “Thanks, Arch,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re the best friend in the world.” He chuckled at their joke, something they had started saying to each other back in elementary school.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered back and it was in that moment that Betty truly realized how scared he must have been, sitting in the hospital, not able to leave and sworn to secrecy about her location. She shut her eyes against the onslaught of tears that tried to take over her again and turned to pick up her soup. She began to eat slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her body with too much food at once.

After she had finished about a quarter on the content she set the bowl back down. “Do you know if Kevin ever mentioned anything to his dad?” Kevin’s father was the Sheriff of Riverdale and Betty could only hope that her well-meaning friend hadn’t gotten his father involved.

“No, I told him you wanted to police involved. I think it nearly killed him to not say anything, but he didn’t breathe a word of it.” Betty nodded her head at the words, once again mildly content that at least one thing had gone right.

She looked back at her soup, not interested in attempting to eat anymore. All she wanted was a hot bath and to sleep in her own bed. She thanked Archie for the soup, trying to ignore the look of concern in his eyes. She gently pushed herself up and started walking down the hallway, making the first right into the bathroom.

If she was being honest, the bathroom was why they had rented this apartment. It was spacious and had a big tub, which had checked almost all of Betty’s boxes. She closed the door and turned on the tap, letting the steam rise as she undressed. Once all her clothes were off she came to stand in front of the mirror, taking in every bruise and cut her body had taken. Most of the bruises were yellowed, as it had mostly been Malachi spending the last few days with her. It was the cut on her leg that sucked the air out of her lungs.

She unwound the gauze that was wrapped around her thigh, and put on the edge of the tub, fingers ghosting over the puckered ridge where the stitches held her skin together. It was the oddest sensation, it didn’t quite hurt, but it made her skin crawl to think of how the cut had gotten there. She knelt quickly in front of the toilet and emptied her stomach as she once again thought of her last twenty-four hours. Obviously, her body wasn’t ready to accept food yet.

She lowered herself into the water carefully, making sure to keep her stitches above the water. The last thing she wanted was to get them wet and have them get infected.

She lay in the steaming hot water, doing her best to think of nothing except how the water felt against her skin. She gently scrubbed the dirt and grime and blood off her skin, watching it tint the water pink. She washed her hair last, loving the feeling of the last two weeks being washed from her body. She knew in her heart that it would take a lot more than a hot bath to help her forget the traumatic events, but a nice, hot bath was a good start.

When she was done she let the water drain out until she sat shivering in the bottom of the tub. She drew herself up, trying not to put any weight on her injured leg. She toweled off and wrapped herself in her pink robe hanging on the back of the door, again, right where she had left it.

Betty wrapped her hair in her towel and stepped into the hallway. She could hear the quiet murmurings of their television. She peeked her head out of the hallway, muttering a quick goodnight to Archie. His eyes lingered on her longer than normal, and she knew he was still racked with guilt over what had happened to her. She turned and headed to her room, hoping to find some reprieve.

She pushed open the door and was greeted with all her familiar belongings. Her pale pink bedspread and pastel blue walls comforted her in a way that she hadn’t been expecting. She came to sit on the edge of her bed, resting her leg from having weight put on it. She shook her blonde tresses free from the towel and ran her fingers through them, untangling any knots that they encountered. She grabbed an old T-shirt and pair of shorts from her nightstand drawer and got dressed, leaving her bathrobe on the floor. She was suddenly so tired as if all the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body today had finally left her. She lay her head back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling, her eyelids fluttering with exhaustion. Before she knew it she had drifted off into sleep. 

* * *

 His hands were touching her thighs, her face, her arms. Anywhere he could reach. She desperately tried to fight him off, but couldn’t move her body. Betty looked around and saw that nothing was holding her down, and yet she still couldn’t move.

“No, stop,” she shouted at him, his eyes wild above her. Her stomach rolled and twisted as she looked at his face. “No, please. Someone help me! No!”

Betty awoke screaming, her body covered in sweat, Archie’s hands on her shoulders. She didn’t see him at first and did her best to take a swing, her knuckles glancing off his jaw as he ducked away.

“Betts...Betts! Calm down, it’s just me.” Betty shook her head and looked at the man in front of her. Red hair, not black. Brown eyes, not green. Her chest heaved from her nightmare and she felt like she would never catch her breath. She felt Archie wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. “It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Betty's heart cracked open as a sob caught in her throat. “I am not okay,” she whispered, her voice raspy from screaming.

“Oh god, Betts. I’m sorry. I know you’re not okay. I just meant...I guess I just meant that I’m here.” Betty nodded against his shoulder, not able to speak around the lump in her throat. They sat there for a long time, him gently rocking her and her trying to get the feeling of _his_ hands on her skin out of her mind.

A bang at the door had them both jumping. Archie looked in the direction of the hallway as the banging continued.

“I’m going to go check it out,” Archie finally said. As he moved to stand, Betty reached a hand out, grabbing his wrist. She watched as his eyes zeroed in on her fingers, then followed her arm up to her face.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded, never feeling more pathetic. Archie brought a hand over hers, gently prying her fingers off his wrist.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

She watched as he walked out her door, his hand darted just inside the door of his room. When he pulled his hand back, he had a baseball bat. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner. She tried her best to listen, but could only hear the relentless banging on the door. Then, Archie’s voice clear in the silent night.

“What are you doing here, snake?” She heard a small commotion, and she leaned forward on her bed to get a better look down the hallway. Betty watched as a tall man with wild, black hair came down the hall, a small blonde woman in tow. Betty scurried into the corner of her bed out of habit and waited as the man came to stand in her doorway. He flicked on the light, blinding her momentarily.

It was the same man from earlier at the bar and the woman who had helped Jughead load her into his SUV. She stared at them, unable to form a coherent thought. The man was the first to speak.

“Time to pack, Princess. Bosses orders.” It was these words that brought her back to life. She moved forward on her bed and came to stand just as Archie pushed his way through the two Serpents.

“She isn’t going anywhere with you.” Archie threatening darkly. Again Betty was amazed at how quickly her best friend could turn that switch. The man in front of her only chuckled.

“You don’t scare me, Red, and there are Ghoulies down the street who would love to end your girl’s life. Boss said to pick her up, grab some clothes, and bring her to the Wyrm. The Ghoulies won’t try to mess with her there and she’ll be safe until we figure out what to do about this mess.” She could tell that Archie was about to argue again, but she jumped in before he could.

Betty looked directly at the blonde in the background, “Jughead sent you?” The blonde nodded. Betty let out a sigh. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew she would be a lot safer surrounded by Serpent’s than unprotected in her own home, save for Archie and his bat.

“Alright. Let me grab some things.” She felt Archie shift in her direction and looked up into his incredulous face.

“Betts, you can’t be serious.” Betty scrubbed a hand over her face.

“I don’t have a choice, Arch.” Archie looked ready to argue again, but seeing the tired look on her face decided against it.

“I’ll get you a bag,” he muttered instead. He left the room, shooting a glare at the two Serpent’s standing in her doorway.

Betty moved to her dresser, pulling clothes out randomly, not even bothering to make outfits that matched. She threw the clothes on her bed and moved to the closet, opening the doors.

“That’s quite the lapdog you have there.” She looked in the direction of the husky voice, knowing it was the man who had spoken. She narrowed her eyes into a glare, anger flaring up in her stomach.

“If you had been through what he’s been through, you’d be protective too,” she snapped. She flinched as the man came closer to her, crossing her room in two long strides.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, and believe me, picking up some spoiled Northside princess wasn’t first on my list of things to do tonight.” She cowered away from him, his closeness and threatening tone making her feel sick all over again. A hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back roughly.

“That’s enough, Pea.” It was the blonde woman who spoke, her eyes aflame. The tall man looked like he was about to tell her off, but seemed to reconsider. The blonde pushed past him and came to stand beside Betty. “Let’s get some stuff and get out of here, okay?”

Betty nodded and looked back to the closet, bewildered at the woman’s kindness and gentle tone.

Archie returned with a duffel bag and started throwing the clothes that lay on the bed into it. Betty walked over with another handful of items and tossed them into the bag as well. She noticed that Archie had also grabbed her toiletry bag from the bathroom and she thanked her quietly. She was still in her T-shirt and shorts, but form the looks on the Serpent’s faces, she wouldn’t have time to change. She looked back at Archie and smiled at him.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll call you as soon as I get a new phone,” she promised. Archie nodded, his hand reaching for her, but he pulled it back to himself before he could touch her.

“Be safe, Betts.” She smiled in return and grabbed the bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“How are you going to make sure that the Ghoulies don’t come here and hurt Archie?” The two Serpent’s seemed taken aback by her question, obviously not expecting her to question them. “He can stay with Joaquin for a couple days, he’s just outside on his bike standing lookout. I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ll tell him on the way out, he’ll be waiting for you.” Archie nodded, too exhausted to argue or fight about it. Betty walked out of the room first, followed by the Serpents. She looked over her shoulder to see Archie dart into his room, probably to back his own bag. Betty walked out the front door without a second glance back, limping to the elevator as her injured leg began to throb. The bag was suddenly taken from her shoulder and she watched as the tall man, Pea, the blonde had called him, slung it over his own shoulder instead.

The blonde pushed the elevator call button and they waited in silence as the elevator dinged at them. It was a silent ride down, no one speaking or even breathing that loudly. They exited out into the parking garage, Pea telling her briefly to keep her head down. They stopped outside a black Jeep, a motorbike parked beside it.

Betty jumped when a man appeared from the front of the vehicle, but the Serpent’s obviously knew him.

“Quin, the redhead is going to stay with you until things settle down,” the blonde said. The man nodded, neither looking happy nor inconvenienced by the information.

“Okay, Princess. Hop in.” Betty scowled at the nickname, about to rebuke the monster of a man, but instead got in the vehicle. It wasn’t worth it to fight. All the fight was gone right out of her. He closed the door behind her, placing her duffel bag in the back. She watched out the window as they drove back to the Southside, leaving her home once again.


	6. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t come any closer!” she screams, trying to kick her arms and legs at him, anything to deter him. She feels dread all the way up her spine as he grabs her arms and pins her to the bed. “Malachi, no…” She feels a rigidity in her limbs like she doesn’t have the strength to push him off, like she could never escape his hands.
> 
> “Get away from me, get away!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness it's been a while! The good news is, the rest of this story is all planned out which I sincerely hope means that the chapters will get out quickly. I'm so excited for this chapter and what's to come! Buckle up! Things start to really pick up from here on out!

Betty watched the neon lights of the Whyte Wyrm as it came into view. Despite the late, or early depending on how you looked at it, hour she had expected the bar to be closed. A few bikes still sat out front, nothing close to how many there had been only mere hours ago when she had left.

The Jeep pulled up to the door, parking right in front of the stairs, and Betty felt more than saw the two Serpents leave the vehicle. She opened her door, not wanting to be called a princess again, and grabbed her bag. Her legs felt like jelly as her feet hit the ground, her injured leg flaring with pain, the smell of motor oil and cigarettes overpowering her senses. She stood there for a moment, unable to move or process the events that had led her here. It all sounded far-fetched and made up in her mind, almost like she was trying to convince herself that it wasn’t real, this wasn’t her life. Her life was pastel blouses and dinner dates with Kevin, going to the movies with Archie, working at the Register with her dad. It wasn’t this gothic version of a horror film.

A voice behind her caused her to jump out of her thoughts, bringing her back to her reality. This was her life and she was still trying to find a way to come to terms with that. She looked at the woman standing next to her, her green eyes lit brightly by the neon signs.

“Let’s get you inside and settled. It’s been a pretty fucking long day.” Betty nodded her head and fell in step behind the woman. It _had_ been a long day, and for not the first time, she wondered how one day could feel like it had been stretched out into a year.

She headed up the stairs, her stitches pulling with every move, pushing open the heavy wooden doors, leaving the inky blackness of the night behind her.

Inside the bar, there were far fewer patrons than the bikes outside would have someone believe. There were a few rough-looking men taking up one booth, but save for them the bar was empty. Her eyes caught on one of the men, he looked oddly familiar. His eyes pierced into her, his worn flannel laying open to expose a white tank underneath. She tore her eyes from him, trying to place him. The blonde woman in front of her, Penny, she thought she remembered hearing that name, walked her to the back of the room to the door that sat off to the side of the lacquered wood that made up the bar.

She watched passively as Penny knocked on the door, her knuckles breaking the heavy silence. Betty heard shuffling from within the door, watched the doorknob as it turned slowly, then stared at the tired face that greeted them.

“What is it?” Betty tried not to flinch at the harshness of his tone, the look of surprise on his face.

“Jug,” her voice was like silk now, floating over them,  “thought I’d let you know we have a guest.” Betty watched the exchange in confusion. She was sure that Penny and the other Serpent, Sweet Pea, had said Jughead had sent them to get her. Why did Jughead look so surprised?

“Jesus, Pen. I told you to watch for Ghoulies, not bring her back here.” He ran a hand roughly over his face and then raked his long fingers through his already messy hair. Betty watched those fingers, lithe and strong. She heard Penny scoff beside her.

“Yeah, and we did. And almost as soon as we showed up, so did the Ghoulies. I figured you would want her here, the Ghoulies will be too scared to come banging down your door. This is the safest place for her.” Betty couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his face, noticing the purple bruise-like marks under his eyes. She looked at him, really looked at him, he couldn’t be much older than her and Archie. Yet, he was in charge of all these people? She wondered mildly how that had happened. Surely it wasn’t his first career choice, to become the leader of a gang.

She heard him mutter, “Take her upstairs. Same room as before,” and then the door was closing, effectively stopping her train of thought. She turned slightly to look at Penny, feeling foolish for not paying better attention to the conversation in front of her.

Penny heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, “Follow me.” Betty nodded slightly, letting her feet carry in the direction the blonde Serpent was walking in.  

Betty let her hand trail on the chipped and gouged railing as they climbed the steps, her bag swaying and knocking against her back, the added weight feeling like a tonne of bricks on her back. Every scratch and indentation was a marker of time, of a story, and Betty felt the familiar need to know them all. It was a part of who she was, it was why she had decided to pursue journalism. That need to know the story, to know all the details, it fueled her every thought and action. At least it used to.

Penny came to a halt outside of the room Betty had been behind earlier that morning, bringing Betty’s thoughts to a stop.

“This is going to be you, for the next couple days at least, or until Jug can figure out what to do next.” Betty nodded, not quite able to find her voice. She was a much better observer than she was a conversationalist anyways. “Try to get some rest, from what little Jug told us, it sounds like you had one hell of a ride with the Ghoulies.”

“Thank you,” Betty rasped, feeling her heart in her throat at the mention of her time with the other gang.

She walked inside the room, giving Penny a small smile as the blonde left her. Betty softly shut the door behind her, looking at the room that she had woken up in today. She set her bag on the dresser, intending on unpacking it. That’s what her mother would have done.

_It’s unseemly to live out of a suitcase._

She could almost hear her mother’s words, but at the thought of her mother, she was reminded of her father and his still missing status. She collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down her face, hoping that sleep would claim her swiftly, without the nightmares that plagued her when she closed her eyes.

* * *

Betty awoke the next day to sound of chatter and light streaming into her eyes. She groaned as she stretched her hands above her head, grateful that her prayers had been answered last night. Her sleep had been blissfully absent of dreams and nightmares alike. She placed a hand over her eyes, trying to acclimate to the sunlight that was illuminating every corner of the room she laid in.

She took a deep breath in, trying to organize her thoughts. Would she stay in her room all day? Would someone come to get her when she was allowed to leave? Betty’s heart clenched at the thought. Before she had been taken, thoughts like that hadn’t occurred to her. She was a self-assured, confident woman. She knew that for certain. She lived her life by the old adage of _it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission._ But she was different now, everything was different now.

Where there had once been a free spirit inside her, there was now a caged bird, beaten and bruised into submission. She wanted so desperately to feel normal, but every time she closed her eyes she was thrown back into that basement, the dingy walls painting the back of her eyelids with the horrors she had experienced.

Tears pricked her eyes, her heart clawing its way up to her throat. She was broken inside, a fractured piece of what she used to be, and she couldn’t see how she was ever going to put herself back together.

The next few minutes passed with her listening to the commotion downstairs. She could hear laughing and talking, the gentle scrape of utensils on plates, but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to investigate, a word that used to hold so much intrigue for her now lying useless and flat in her mouth. It was only when the smell from downstairs caused her stomach to grumble painfully within her that she managed to get herself out of bed. She crept to her door, half-expecting it to be locked, but reminded herself again that she was no longer a prisoner. Not anymore.

She slowly walked to the edge of the stairs, crouching down to see the bar below. She couldn’t see much, but from what she could make out, it seemed like they were having some kind of breakfast together. Her stomach rumbled again, mocking her. The last thing she ate was Archie’s canned soup, and it was obvious that her stomach wanted something more substantial, yet she continued to watch. She watched as men and women alike lined up with plates, talking and joking with one another. She was amazed to see a couple kids running around. _Why were there kids in a bar?_ She scrunched her forehead, perplexed by the scene laying itself out below her.

“It’s Sunday.” Betty just about jumped out of her skin at the voice behind her. She was immediately taken back to the basement, green eyes prowling around her, waiting for sleep to take her only so he could wake her again with the sharp blade of a knife. She stood quickly, pressing herself against the wall beside her, making herself as small as possible. Her eyes clenched shut, not wanting to see where the blow or cut would land.

“Oh god,” gentle hands reached out to her, grasping her arms, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She slowly opened one eye, then the other, turning her face to look at the voice that had spoken. Blue eyes, not green. She let out the breath that she had been holding, sinking back against the wall.

“It’s…” Betty began, “It’s fine.” She said the words in a sigh, feeling her heart descend back into her chest cavity where it belonged. She glanced down at the hands that were still on her arms, but as soon as she looked at them they disappeared, the warmth that had been there now gone. Betty wondered at that, how someone who seemed so cold, could be so warm. That was the third time he had touched her now, and each time a warmth radiated through her, one that was absent in his eyes, but overpowering when he touched her skin. She glanced at him again through her eyelashes, wanting to look at him, but still shaken from her scare. He had on a beanie this morning, gray and worn, in the shape of a crown. It was a new addition to his wardrobe and she wondered who would wear a beanie in the summer. His blue eyes were piercing into her, she could feel his gaze on every inch of her body like she was an insect that he was examining.

“It’s Sunday,” Jughead stated again, pulling her from her thoughts. “Every Sunday we have a big breakfast at the Wyrm for all Serpent’s and their families.” She looked at him quizzically, not understanding.

“Like, to talk about what kind of stuff you’ll be doing next week? As a gang?” Jughead chuckled at the question, his eyes flashing.

“No, meetings usually happen Monday morning. This is just something we do to remind us that we’re, you know….family.” She watched as he paused on that word. _Family._ How could a gang of law-breaking miscreants feel a sense of family? What was the point of creating the camaraderie?

“Why don’t you get dressed and come down to grab something? You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.” She knew instantly that he didn’t mean it when the look of horror crossed his face. “Oh God, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant....”

Betty cut him off with a small smile, “It’s fine,” she murmured quietly, barely to be heard over the din of noise coming from below. “I’m starving.” She said the words with a wink and slipped away back into her room, closing the door behind her.

She rested her back against the wood, feeling his presence outside her room still. Her heart was racing, chest heaving with labored breaths. Had she been flirting? What was that wink? Where had that even come from? She barely knew this man from a hole in the ground, except that he was rumored to be the most ruthless leader that the Serpents had ever had. So why was she dancing with fire? Why was she even here? All these questions she asked herself as she pulled on a T-shirt and jeans.

She sighed at the droop in the waist. What once had fit her like a glove now sagged on her tiny frame, her shirts and jeans barely being held up. She was glad there wasn’t a mirror in the room. Seeing herself so thin had almost broken her yesterday after her bath. It wasn’t something she wanted to have to encounter often, if at all, if she could avoid it.

She pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, feeling a little more herself at the tight pull of her hair. Walking over to the door, she placed her hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and walked into the hallway.

She made her way down the stairs slowly, favoring her uninjured leg, looking around cautiously at the men, women, and children that were gathered around. Everyone was smiling and talking, so unlike any picture of a gang that she could have conjured up in her mind.

Her attention came to rest on the man that had come to her house last night, Pea. Or was it Sweet Pea? She stood on the last step, watching as he approached the bar, plate at the ready. Betty’s eyes came to rest on the man standing across from Pea, tall and handsome, dishing out scoops of scrambled eggs, beanie sitting snugly on his head. She watched as Pea said something and was amazed to see the man opposite laugh. His whole face lit up, she noticed. His eyes crinkled in the corner, head thrown back, teeth flashing. A soft voice from beside her broke her out of her observation.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” Betty looked around for the voice and was greeted with a small woman, only made shorter by the fact that Betty was still standing on the last step. She was slight and had bronzed skin. Betty’s eyes glanced over her, taking in the woman. Dark hair, bleached and dyed pink at the ends, styled into two braids. Tight clothes, ripped and shredded artfully to show off just enough skin. Biker boots that seemed to be part of a secret dress code. Kind eyes, a welcoming smile. Those were things that Betty hadn’t been expecting, but was happily surprised to find them.

“I’m Toni,” the smaller woman said, sticking out a hand to Betty. Betty held out her own to meet Toni’s, feeling strange as the woman shook her hand lightly. “Jug asked me to make sure you got some food.” Betty stared at the woman, then back to the Serpent leader, who was now serving a small boy. She couldn’t make sense of these people. She heard a cough below her again, bringing her attention once again back to Toni.

“That would be amazing,” Betty breathed, feeling her stomach rumble again as if it had been waiting for this precise moment to remind her of its hunger.

“Great,” Toni beamed up at her,  “follow me.” Betty stepped down off the last step, immersing herself in the world of the Serpents, if only for this one moment.

* * *

Betty pushed her plate of half-eaten food away and placed a hand on her stomach, wondering why her eyes had betrayed her in pretending to be bigger than her stomach. Toni chuckled from across her and Betty blushed, her mother’s words ringing in her mind.

_Don’t waste food, Elizabeth. There are those who don’t have any._

Betty smiled to mask her sadness. She thought of her mother often, even though she did her best not to. Things had been hard this last year, not including recent events. Images of hospital beds and doctors flashed into her mind, then just as quickly left. She couldn’t let herself think about it, the wounds still fresh, the hurt still deep.

She looked up only to see Toni staring at her. She only hoped that she hadn’t been looking long, hadn’t seen the flash of pain cross and leave her face. Somehow, the look in Toni’s eyes convinced Betty that she had seen everything.

“So, what now?” Toni seemed shocked to hear Betty speak, but the blonde couldn’t blame her. She had said barely a word throughout their shared meal.

“Well, normally I’d get the bar ready for the week, but…” Toni glanced off behind Betty’s shoulder, causing Betty to turn her head in the same direction. She saw immediately why Toni had broken off her speech. Jughead was walking towards their table, eyes laser-focused on them. “But I think the boss might have different plans,” Toni concluded.

Betty turned her head back, blushing slightly at her staring, knowing that he had seen her doing so. She felt his presence, strong and unwavering, confident and in charge. She didn’t want to look up, knowing the rouge in her cheeks still hadn’t calmed.

“Toni, take Betty to get a new phone today.” Betty’s eyes shot up to him. How had he known that she needed one? Her eyes must have betrayed her confusion as one of his eyebrows shot up in answer to her. He leaned down close to her and whispered so quietly she had barely thought he spoke, “Your boyfriend has called about ten times to let us know that you needed one so he could reach you.”

She again blushed at his proximity, not really hearing his words until he was already walking away. It was only when he was about five feet away that they finally registered. “Oh….” she turned to look at his retreating back, “He’s not…” She was cut off by a wave of the man’s hand, effectively stalling her words in her mouth.

“Have fun today, ladies.” Betty turned to face Toni again, not appreciating the smirk that was playing across the smaller woman’s face.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered, feeling like a pouting child but needing to say that words nevertheless.

She stared at Toni’s hand as it patted her arm. It was the type of gesture that Betty had experienced in the past, but it was almost always paired with condescension. When Toni did it, she just felt warmth. Maybe even compassion. How could that be? Betty shook her head minutely, she was tired. There was no way that this woman, who had known her for all of an hour, was being warm and compassionate to her. She needed more sleep, she decided.

“Let’s go get you that phone,” Betty nodded, still looking at the place where Toni’s hand had sat only moments before. She stood and followed the slight woman out of the bar, stomach turning at the uncertainty that she was caught in. Why were these people being so nice? Where was the bloodshed and ruthlessness that had always accompanied stories of the Serpents? Where was the Southside stereotype that she had grown so comfortable in believing?

 

They had been driving for a while, to where Betty had no clue. The whole ride she had been trying to reassure herself that she was safe, but it was hard to shake the feeling of doom that rested over her. Realistically, she knew that she wouldn’t feel safe again in the span of a day. She _knew_ that, in her heart, but the other part of her demanded to know why she couldn’t just relax.

But even then, she knew why. Her body had been in high alert for the last two weeks, put through more than she ever thought she could handle or bear. Yet here she was, on the other side of the trauma, still living, when at one point she thought she would die.

She knew she should give herself more credit. It wasn’t like she was a basket case, screaming and lashing out at people all hours of the day, but something still felt off, even if she was the only one who could detect it.

So that was why she felt her stomach clench in relief when they parked in front of Betty’s cell phone store, unaware that she had been clutching the door handle in some desperate attempt to calm herself.

“How…” she began, but struggled to find the words, “How did you know to come here?” The words were simple, but from the look on Toni’s face, one eyebrow raised, she knew that the answer was much simpler than the sinister one she had been thinking.

“You are obviously from the Northside,” Toni’s voice was gentle, despite the incredulity that played across her face, “and there’s only one cell phone shop on each side of town. It wasn’t a hard guess to make.” Betty tried to hide the small smile that was attempting to break across her face. Toni was smart, that much was obvious.

Betty exited the vehicle, feeling strange in the open parking lot. Internally, she knew that it would take a while for her to feel comfortable out in public again. She tried to calm her breathing as she strode towards the door of the building, the desperate need to be indoors pushing her forward faster and faster. She let out a long sigh as soon as the door closed behind her. Behind the closed door, inside the small building, she felt safe. At least safer than she had outside.

 

“No, I don’t want to cancel my plan. I just want to add a cell phone to my old plan.” Betty huffed in frustration. She had been talking to the woman behind the counter for over thirty minutes now, and still hadn’t gotten anywhere. She was an older woman and looked like she had never smiled a day in her life.

“I already told you, young lady, if you want a new phone you need a new plan. You’ll need to pay out your old plan, so that cost on top of the new phone you’ve chosen will be four hundred and twenty dollars.” Betty tried to hold in the groan that was bubbling behind her lips.

“I understand ma’am, but as I’ve already said, I called ahead and spoke to the owner, and because of some special circumstances she was willing to wave the payout fee. Is she here today? Maybe if I could speak to her…” Betty barely noticed the dinging of the bell above the door, announcing a new customer.

“Well, as _I’ve_ already told _you,”_ the older woman interrupted, _“_ she isn’t in today, so you’ll have to speak with me, and there are no notes on my system of anyone getting special treatment today.” Betty’s mouth dropped open at the obvious sarcasm that dropped from the elderly woman’s voice. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, immediately feeling embarrassed for letting her emotions get the best of her.

“Is there a problem here?” Betty’s eyes snapped to the voice that had spoken just to her right. Toni was standing beside her, looking every bit the hardened biker she was. Betty watched as the older woman ran her eyes down Toni’s body, taking in her appearance.

“No problem that trailer trash has any business poking their nose into.” Betty gasped at the woman’s words. She might not know Toni well, but she knew that nobody deserved to be treated that way, no matter where they lived. She chanced a look at Toni, expecting to see fury, but was surprised to see no evidence of anger, only calm.

“You know,” Betty wondered at the silky smoothness of Toni’s voice as the slight woman came to stand at the counter, bending over it, “on the Southside, we may not have a lot of money, but we do know that there’s a pecking order, and we _always_ know who’s on top.” Betty watched in amazement as Toni lifted her shirt slightly, showing off a tiny tattoo on her hip. Betty couldn’t really see what the tattoo was of, but from the look on the elderly woman’s face, it was something that was meant to intimidate.

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I’ll go get the manager right away.” Betty stared after the woman as she scurried into the back room.

“But she said....” Betty stopped midsentence when she heard Toni chuckling from beside her.

“Don’t worry about it, Northside.”

 

Betty walked out of the store ten minutes later with her promised deal and a new phone in her hand. She was still wondering on how Toni had convinced the older woman to change her mind and asked the Serpent as much, as she typed out a quick text to Archie.

 _I have a new phone now. I’ll call you later tonight._  

“I showed her my Serpent tattoo,” she said simply, “you wouldn’t believe how many times this thing has greased gears and gotten people off their asses.” Toni laughed as she re-entered the vehicle and Betty found it difficult to stifle the small smile that had crept onto her face.

* * *

 

“So how long have you been a Serpent?” They were heading back to the bar and had spent the majority of the ride in silence. Betty was a naturally curious person and the quiet was killing her. Even if she didn’t completely trust the Serpents, what could be the harm in doing a little investigating?

Toni looked at her out of the corner of her eye, Betty was sure the other woman was about to tell her to simply be quiet and mind her own business, but instead, she spoke quietly.

“I joined at thirteen. That’s the youngest we used to take.” Betty looked back out the windshield at the road. _Thirteen_? They were still practically babies back then, certainly not old enough to make a lifelong decision like being in a gang.

“Used to?” She hadn’t missed the deliberate use of words that Toni had chosen. Maybe their rules had changed since Toni was that young.

“Yeah,” the pink-haired woman sighed, “now the age limit is seventeen. That was something that Jug changed when he took over. He used to always say that if a kid couldn’t finish high school then they couldn’t be committed to us either. Secretly, I think he always wanted the kids to have a backup if they changed their minds and wanted to get out of this shit town.” Betty caught herself mid-smile at the words. Why did it surprise her that Jughead would care about what kind of recruits he had?

“Sounds like a big change. I find it hard to believe that that went over well.” Again, Betty saw Toni side-eye her. “I just mean that there are quite a few old boys that hang around the bar, from what little I’ve seen of it. They don’t seem like the type to accept change openly.” Betty hoped that she had recovered gracefully, she was just starting to learn something from Toni, and she didn’t want the Serpent to shut down at her nosiness.

“You could say that,” Toni muttered. Betty wondered at her tone. It was one that spoke of resilience and hard-fought battles. Betty knew first hand that battling the misogyny is a small town like Riverdale often felt like a burden that was the weight of the world, but she had a feeling that Toni was one of the few who was strong enough to bear it.

Betty decided to try for a few more questions since she had had good luck getting answers so far.

“So Jughead,” she paused her, waiting for Toni to give some indication that she was still willing to talk. When she received no opposition from the driver’s seat, she decided to barrel on. “He doesn’t look very old. How old was he when he became the leader?”

Betty waited for a moment and when no answer came she assumed that Toni must have been done talking. It was only when a small whisper came from the opposite side of the car that Betty realized Toni wasn’t avoiding her question.

“Nineteen,” the answer came, whispered more to the car than to Betty. Betty’s stomach clenched at the answer. Nineteen was young, too young to be faced with taking care of such a large group of people. Too young to be running a group of bikers.

Betty didn’t ask any more questions after that, thought after thought running rampant in her mind, chasing one another, but never able to catch hold.

 

Betty walked up the steps of the Wyrm with Toni’s help, her stitched leg feeling stiff and swollen after their drive. They walked side-by-side with Betty’s arm slung over the shorter woman’s shoulder. She was trying her best to keep most of her weight off the Serpent, but with each inclined step, she felt the bite of pain worsen.

They made it inside without incident, where Toni dropped Betty off at the same booth they had sat in that morning. Betty slumped into the seat, feeling worn out despite the lack of effort she had exerted that morning. They had gotten back just in time for lunch, Toni had informed her.

Betty looked around at the patrons that had slowly started to fill the bar. Betty noticed that there were fewer customers than there had been that morning, but she assumed that was due to the change of cost between the two meals. She didn’t expect that people could afford to eat all of their meals at the bar.

Betty saw Toni slip behind the bar and smiled as the petite woman tied on an apron that was much too large for her tiny frame. She had been amazed to find out that morning that not only was the bar the central meeting place for the Serpents but also had a full kitchen in the back as well, one that was often run by Toni and a few others. She looked at the menu that was written on the chalkboard above the wooden slabs of shelves that held the liquor. The menu wasn’t gourmet by any means, but it held all the basics; burgers, deep-fried food, salads. There was even a soup of the day.

Betty’s stomach rumbled as she looked at the menu, reminding her that her body, no matter how malnourished, still required nutrition. Just as she was about to get up and walk to the counter to order, Toni began walking to her table, a platter with steaming food balanced on one hand.

“Here,” she smiled at Betty warmly, “I figured you might need some food after your busy morning,” Betty muttered a quick thank you before the waitress left her sitting there to admire the food.

Toni had brought her the soup, a hot bowl of cream of mushroom, along with a small basket of french fries. Betty wondered again at the hospitality of these people. They took her in without question, fed her, housed her, helped her. As she sipped the soup slowly, desperate to get some food down without upsetting her stomach, she let her mind wander to all the things she had been trying to avoid thinking about.

The Ghoulies, her father. They were connected. That she knew of for sure. It was her digging into her father’s private life that had led her to the Ghoulies. And then there were the Serpents. It was obvious that they had some kind of issue with the Ghoulies. The way the gang members spoke of the Ghoulies was a clear enough indicator.

Her train of thought was interrupted by someone sliding into her booth, startling her out of her thoughts. Betty looked at the woman who now sat across from her. Blonde hair styled messily, body adorned in black leather and ripped jeans. The same woman that had picked her up at her apartment last night.

“Hi,” Betty said cautiously. She couldn’t help but feel a little wary around Penny. She didn’t feel the kind of ease that she felt around Toni, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

“I heard you got the boss man to spare his best bartender to babysit today,” Betty heard the words, but they didn’t feel like they reached her. She tried to absorb what had been said, tried to see if there was a joke that she was missing. Not one of the Serpents had been blatantly rude to her, although now it seemed a little childish to think that they would all like an intruder in their home.

“I don’t know about babysitting,” she said carefully, keeping her voice even, “I didn’t think that I was putting Toni out too much today. She actually was a lot of help to me.” Betty thought back to her morning with the Serpent. _Had_ she been a burden? Was Toni simply good at hiding her true feelings?

“Yeah, that’s the thing about Toni,” Betty tried not to shiver at the way Penny’s words slithered over her skin, as if they were covered in slick oil, “you never know what that girl is thinking.” Betty looked over at the bar, watching Toni chat happily with one of the men sitting on a stool. She didn’t seem like the type to sugarcoat or to be deceitful, but then again, Betty had only known her for a day.

“Same thing goes for Jug,” Betty turned her eyes back to the blonde across from her, “one minute he might seem like he wants you around, the next he’s pushing out the door.” Betty felt her breathing stop, would he kick her out? It wasn’t like she wanted to live at the Wyrm forever, but even she could admit that the bar was the safest place for her. If she had to go back to her apartment, where it was just her and Archie against the world? She hadn’t thought about what she would do in that situation. Now though, images of her never sleeping, of being constantly scared and lonely, rushed through her mind at break-neck speed.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t worry,” Betty felt a hand on her arm, similar in every way to that morning when Toni had placed her hand on Betty, yet different in one significant way. She felt none of the warmth that she had felt emanating from Toni. Instead, the gesture felt cold, mocking. “I think he’ll keep you around for at least a couple more days. Until he gets bored playing the hero.” With that Penny removed her hand from Betty’s arm and left the booth, leaving Betty to think about her words.

What did she mean by _playing the hero_? Would Jughead really kick her out when he got bored of her? She wasn’t even entirely sure what Penny meant by that, as if the Serpent leader was entertained by her tragic story and her pain? She sat and stewed while her food got cold, all signs of her appetite now lost.

It was only when Toni came back over to check on her that she remembered she was even in a bar.

“Not hungry?” The question snapped her out of her reverie like having her head dunked in ice cold water.

“No,” she rushed to reassure the woman, “it was delicious. I just can’t eat as much as I used to.” Betty finished lamely. She saw Toni nod, looking unconvinced at her words.

“I saw Penny over here. What did she want?” Toni said, voice dripping with disdain.

“Oh, nothing much,” she didn’t feel like sharing the harsh, but possibly true, words that had been spoken to her.

“Okay,” Toni muttered, sounding unconvinced, “Well, just remember, we are called Serpents for a reason, and some of us take the snake quality of our namesake a little too seriously.” Betty thought she saw a glimmer of a smile on the bronzed woman’s mouth, but just as quickly as she thought she saw it, it was gone.

“Thanks for lunch, Toni,” she meant it, she was so grateful to have anything other than table scraps to eat, “I think I’m going to head upstairs. That trip to the Northside really tired me out, and my leg is starting to hurt again.” Toni nodded at the words, but Betty couldn’t help but feel as though she saw right through her lies. She slipped out of the booth and began to slowly climb the stairs to the upper level, her leg burning with every push, wanting only to lie down and sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Jughead walked back into the bar, it had been a long morning of tracking down his more errant Serpents. He liked to keep an eye on them. Despite the fact that the Serpents were widely feared, he liked to make sure that that fear was mostly based in myth. They were called drug runners, arms dealers, hit men, and he was fine with being called that. It made people fear them, and that fear usually led to respect. What Jughead was not alright with was his men actually committing said crimes.

Since he had taken over, he had done his best to keep the Serpents clean, but some of the older members were reluctant in the change of leadership style. That was something that Jughead could handle. If it was just a question of whose leadership was better, he knew he could win that fight. He could show the Serpents that living an honest life was better than living one that FP would have them live, in the shadows, doing shady deals that could land them in jail.

What Jughead struggled with was the young members, eager to do anything illegal if it meant that they could get some extra cash in their pockets. How could he convince them to make a living legally if the alternative paid so much better?

He walked over to his booth and flung himself into the worn leather, wanting to put his head down and sleep where he sat. He rested his head in his hands, pushing the grey beanie higher up onto with scalp. He heard a chuckle from beside him and peaked up to see Toni standing above him, a knowing smile gracing her face.

“How were the troops today, Captain?” Jughead tried to hide his smirk at her words, failing miserably.

“About as well as you would expect. The Smith kid is still giving me the runaround.” Toni placed a frosted beer in front of him, making his mouth water.

“That’s to be expected.” Jughead scoffed at her words, drawing himself to sit up straight, grabbing the beer and relishing in the cold feeling against his hand. “Can I get you anything to eat?” He simply nodded as he took a big gulp of the ice-cold beverage in his hand. He didn’t need to tell Toni what he wanted. His order hadn’t changed since he was twelve. A burger, all the fixings, fries on the side.

Toni had barely made it two steps before Jughead gently called out, careful not to make his voice too loud. “Hey Toni,” the petite woman turned to face him, one eyebrow quirked up, “how was Betty today?” He tried not to sound too interested, he did his best to sound aloof, but from the knowing smile on the Latina’s face, he knew he hadn’t succeeded.

“She got a new phone, managed to get down some lunch. She’s upstairs resting. Said her leg was hurting.” Jughead nodded, giving Toni the ok to continue with her work.

He sat alone for a moment, thinking on that morning, the last time he had seen the blonde. She was jumpy, the memory of her cowering against the wall was something his mind had been replaying all day. He knew that she had suffered at the hands of the Ghoulies, but could tell she wasn’t telling the truth. He could feel it in his gut.

He was pulled from his thoughts on Betty’s past when another blonde came sauntering up to his table. He tried to hold back his sigh, knowing that the less enthusiastic he seemed, the more likely it was that Penny would take delight in his suffering.

“What’s up, Pen?” He didn’t trust her smile, it was strangely similar to that of a Cheshire cat, and nothing good ever followed that smile.

“I have some work for us to do,” she lead with, her smile still causing dread to well up inside Jughead. “Come on, the quicker we go, the quicker you can get back to your damsel in distress.” Jughead’s hackles rose at the words that came out as an accusation. Why did she sound so bitter at the mention of Betty? Had she not been the one to bring the girl to the Wyrm? Sure, it had been on his orders, but Penny didn’t openly defy his decisions as leader. No one did.

This time his sigh did escape him as he drug himself out of his booth. Toni was just walking back to his booth, food in tow, when he pulled himself up to full height.

“Can you pack it up and put it in the fridge, T?” He saw the questioning look in her eyes turn into a narrowed glare at Penny. He knew the two women didn’t get along, mostly because Penny was widely known in the Serpents as the biggest bitch, but Toni knew better than to question him. “I’ll be back soon, shouldn’t be gone longer than a couple hours.”

He followed Penny out the back door, watching her flick her hair in Toni’s direction. He scoffed at the action, muttering quietly, “You know, she probably wouldn’t hate you so much if you weren’t such an ass.”

He heard Penny’s chuckle from in front of him and her answering, “What fun would that be?” Jughead tried to stifle his grin. He had to hand it to her. She may be a bitch, but at least she owned it.

They walked towards his vehicle, noting that Penny didn’t offer to drive. She rarely did at this point, his vehicle was bigger and newer, as she so often told him. He got in and closed the door behind him, looking into the passenger seat for directions.

“The warehouse,” her words were quiet, but they rung out in the silence of the cab, “We have to pay our friend a visit.” He looked out the windshield, feeling his jaw tighten, the familiar coldness seeping through him that was necessary for these kinds of jobs.

As they drove he thought about the ice that he so often envisioned hardening him from the inside out. Jughead wasn’t a stupid man. He knew himself well, knew who he was and what he stood for. The only explanation for the feeling that came over him before these jobs was that it must be some form of self-preservation. Some barrier that his mind had created to separate the man he knew he was from the man he knew he could be. Cruel, ruthless, unforgiving, uncaring. All words that he normally wouldn’t use to describe himself, but things that were necessary to get the job done sometimes.

 

They arrived at the warehouse not long after, the one sole light standing out against the looming darkness. The sun was just starting to set and Jughead watched at the sky faded from blue to a burnt orange in the distance, lighting up the trees surrounding the compound. He got out of the vehicle, his gaze remaining on the fading light, remembering briefly what it used to look like as the sun set over the New York horizon. He tried not to let himself think about New York much, it usually brought along feelings of pain, regret, and resentment.

He heard the slam of the passenger door and fell in line beside Penny as she made her way to the door. She pulled out a key from her pocket, inserting it into the door and twisting the knob open. Her and Jughead were the only two people that had access to this facility. If any Serpent was helping with a job, one of them had to be present, with Penny being the operative organizer.

 

He followed her through the door and around the stacks of crates that occupied every inch of the floor. He tried not to ask too many questions about what was inside but he knew the basics. Drugs, guns, illegal dealings. That was all he wanted to know. All he needed to know. He was a fool to think he could reign in Penny, but he did his best to keep her illegal activity in check, usually by involving himself as opposed to the other Serpents.

That was what had gotten him into the business of helping her so often in the first place. Once he had taken over the Serpents, his first act as leader had been a Serpent-wide meeting, detailing that it would be in each man and woman’s best interest to straighten themselves out. He had been clear that the Serpents would no longer be stereotypical gangbangers that hid in alleys selling drugs to the rich kids on the Northside.

Penny had pegged him from day one. She had been able to tell from that one speech that he would do anything to turn the men and women he called family around, even if it meant sullying his own record. That was how she had manipulated him into helping her from day one, and every day ever since.

They came into the opening and Jughead’s eyes fell on the man tied to the chair. A sudden comparison crossed his mind, of a blonde woman being held captive, tortured and beaten. How were they any better than the Ghoulies? How was this any different? He reached out to grab Penny’s arm, halting her moving forward. She turned to look back at him, not used to him being assertive towards her when they were on a job.

“Have you been feeding him? That guy looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.” Penny flashed a smile, her teeth glinting under the fluorescents.

“I’ve been sending Fangs a couple times a day to bring him something to eat.” His eyes flashed in anger, a ball of fury resting deep in his belly. The whole point of him helping was so other Serpents didn’t have to, she _knew_ that and yet she used every opportunity to throw it back in his face.

“Relax, Jug,” her voice was as slippery as oil on water, creeping into his ears and coating everything they could touch, “He just brought him food, nothing else.” These words did little to placate him, but he released her arm nevertheless.

“What’s the end goal here, Penny? What do you want out of this guy?” Penny sauntered ahead of him, tossing her words over her shoulder, “He has information that I need, and I intend to get it.” Jughead stifled his anger as he watched her walked away from him. He leaned against the nearest crate as she approached the man, his blonde hair matted and eyes bruised black and blue, thanks to Jughead. He tried not to let it bother him. He just hoped that the man told Penny what she wanted to hear and that they could all go home.

Penny wasn’t a murderer. She would let him go once she had what she wanted. She always did.

“So, Coop. I have some questions and this is how our visit is going to go. I’ll ask you a question, you answer it honestly. If I like your answer, then you’re in the clear. If not, then Jughead is going to come and speak with you like he did yesterday. You don’t want that, do you?” The man shook his head vigorously at the question. _Smart move,_ Jughead thought.

“Good. So my first question, who are you working for?” The man’s eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly.

“I’m...I’m not working for anyone.” He heard Penny cluck her tongue, her eyes flashing back to meet with his. Now it was his turn to fulfill his obligation. He stepped towards the man, rolling up his sleeve.

“See now, that is not a good answer. Jug?” Jughead pushed passed her, bringing his fist back before shooting it forward into the man’s cheekbone. He watched as the middle-aged man’s head whipped to the side, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. Jughead took another step back, allowing Penny to come to stand in front once again.

“Let’s try again. Who are you working for?” Her words came out harshly, her sickly sweet demeanor now gone. The man looked up at her and hesitated, looking from her to Jughead. _Tell her_ , he tried to convey to him.

“A man named Malachi,” the words pounded through Jughead’s veins, heat and rage taking over every part of him.

“Did Malachi tell you to double-cross us?” The words came out in a growl, and he could see that he had startled Penny. He didn’t usually take the lead on these kinds of things, but the mention of Malachi was enough for him to forget himself.

The green eyes looked up at him, piercing into him with their intensity. The color niggled at something in the back of his mind, but his anger was too strong for him to focus on any other feeling or thought.

“He told me to take your guns and sell them to the highest bidder, and bring the extra profit back to him.” Jughead sneered at the thought of the Ghoulie, his black hair wild and unruly, just like his gang members. Jughead swung his fist forward, connecting with the blonde’s nose, then again into his temple. He got a couple more hits in before he could feel someone pulling back on him.

“Jug! _Stop!”_ He looked a the voice, coming from the woman standing beside him, her hands gripping tightly into his arm. “He’s no good to us if he’s too beaten up to talk.” Jughead looked back at the mess he had created. Blood mixed with saliva dripped from the man’s mouth onto the floor, his head lolling forward into his lap.

Jughead’s stomach turned at the sight before him, his nonexistent supper threatening to come back up. He shook Penny off his arm, his eyes meeting her. He wasn’t sure what she saw there, but from the look on her face, it was something that she hadn’t anticipated.

“We’re done here,” he snarled, making his way towards the door and out into the now dark night.

He got in the driver’s side and clasped his hands tightly over the steering wheel, trying to gain back some semblance of control. His concentration was broken when he heard the passenger door open, with Penny climbing in shortly after.

He listened as she sighed, her gaze fixed on the warehouse.

“Let’s go get some food,” she said quietly, knowing better than to test him when he was this angered. “Pop’s?”

He had to hand it to her, she might put him through hell, and she might manipulate the shit out of him, but under all that malice he knew that she cared. He pulled the gearshift into reverse and headed in the direction of Pop’s. If anything could calm him down it would be a burger and fries at his favorite place.

* * *

Betty awoke to the send of laughter downstairs for the second time that day. Her nap had been more successful than she had initially thought it might be, with the greedy hands of sleep pulling her down into a deep slumber. She felt disorientated for a moment, a usual occurrence for her after a good nap.

She moved her arms above her head, stretching her limbs and trying to get them to cooperate. Betty moved her legs off the bed, pulling herself upright. The light outside the window was fading, a startling realization to how long she had slept. Her stomach rumbled beneath her, reminding her that she hadn’t finished her lunch and was now running on little to no food. She paused for a moment, feeling hesitation in going downstairs and facing all the strange faces, but her growling stomach was doing a good job in motivating her. She walked to her door, listening for a moment before opening it and slipping out, closing it behind her. It wasn’t that she really thought someone would go in her room, yet she still felt more comfortable with the wood separating her private space and everyone else.

She descended the stairs, hoping to find a friendly face and was happily greeted with Toni’s smile beaming at her from the same booth she had been sitting in earlier. She was accompanied by a man, tall with dark hair and olive skin, a snake tattoo winding its way up his neck. She walked over to them slowly, observing her surroundings as she went.

There were more people present now that it was later in the day, booths filled up with men and woman, old and young alike. Betty found herself being surprised at the diversity of the group. It seemed like no two Serpents came in the same shape or size or color. They were a homogenous mixture of people who were laughing and eating together. She had never seen such ease between such different groups of people before, and it baffled her.

She came to Toni’s table and smiled shyly at the woman.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Betty blushed at the Latina’s words, hearing her own mother’s words bouncing inside her head.

_Productive people don’t sleep at day, Elizabeth._

“You look better,” came the low rumble of the man sitting beside Toni. She must have looked taken aback at his words because Toni immediately smacked his arm.

“Forgive Sweet Pea, Betty. He wouldn’t know how to talk to a woman if he tried.” Betty watched in amusement at Sweet Pea’s outraged look, appreciating the friendly exchange between the two.

“It’s fine,” Betty muttered, looking down at the table, “I feel better after that nap so I’m glad it shows.” She smiled again at Sweet Pea’s gesture, a lifted arm, and eyebrows that seemed to say _See?_

Toni rolled her eyes and moved out of the booth. “Here. Sit and I’ll grab you some food. I’m sure you’re starving.” Betty nodded, feeling her cheeks blush scarlet. She scooted into the booth as Toni left, sitting alone with Sweet Pea, who seemed much more intimidating now that Toni was absent. They sat in silence for a moment before the Serpents low voice rumbled out again.

“So I heard Toni took you to get a new phone today.” Betty nodded, not sure what to say. This was new territory for her. Big, burly men and hardened women hadn’t really fit into her life before the last few weeks, and even then, these people were so different to the ones she had experienced when she was with the Ghoulies.

“That was probably fun,” Betty looked up at him, questioning his statement with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you figure?” she whispered her words quietly, barely heard above the din of the bar.

The man across from her leaned down to meet her eyes, looking around as if he had a secret to share with just her, “Toni might seem like a badass, but she’s the softest Serpent there is. She’s got a big heart and doesn’t like it when people are rude.”  Betty nodded, not entirely following where he was going with this. “I’ve been to the cell store on the Northside, once, when I was in desperate need of a burner phone. That old bag behind the counter is about as rude as it gets.”

Betty’s eyes widened, now understanding what he was getting at. She cringed at the memory of Toni getting involved with the lady, both grateful for the help and embarrassed that she had needed it.

Sweet Pea seemed to gather as much from the look on her face and chuckled. “Like I said, must have been fun to watch her put that miserable old woman in her place.” Now it was Betty’s turn to chuckle, a soft, light noise that she hadn’t heard in weeks. She had at one point thought that she would never feel enough joy to laugh ever again, so it was a surprise to her that not only could she feel happiness, but her vocal chords hadn’t dried up to dust from misuse.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Toni appeared with three baskets in tow. Betty’s mouth watered at the sight. Inside each basket was a burger and fries, each looking like a masterpiece. Betty watched as Toni set the trays on the table, then scooted herself in beside Sweet Pea. Betty waited for the other two to begin eating before digging into her own basket. It was delicious. The burger was moist and had just the right about of grease, the fries crisp yet still tender.

She only looked up when she heard a laugh across from her, finally noticing the two sets of eyes that were watching her every move. She flushed red, knowing that she probably wasn’t eating in the most ladylike manner, but the two didn’t seem disgusted. Instead, they looked amused.

“See, like I said. Starving.” Toni’s words rang true. Betty smiled around her mouthful of burger and looked down again, working to swallow what was in her mouth. She tried to eat slowly after that, not wanting to give anyone, Serpent or not, the impression that she was one without manners.

She had to stop about halfway through her meal, her shrunken stomach screaming in protest to the onslaught of food. She leaned back, pushing her basket away. It only sat there for a moment before Sweet Pea was speaking around a mouthful of his own burger.

“You gonna finish that?” Betty laughed lightly and shook her head.

“Go right ahead,” she replied, “I can’t eat anymore.” He nodded his head at her words, pulling her basket closer to himself, not wasting another moment before diving in.

Toni snorted in disgust beside him, “Vulture.” Sweet Pea just shrugged in response. “I swear, you’re as bad as Jug.” Betty perked up at the mention of the Serpent leader. She hadn’t seen him since that morning and had been curious about his whereabouts.

“Where is Jughead?” she asked quietly, “I haven’t seen him all day,” she continued by way of explanation, the questioning looks across from her making her think that maybe she had crossed some invisible line.

“He’s.... out.” Toni finished lamely. Betty raised an eyebrow at the answer. Toni had been kind and open all day, and Betty was no stranger to investigating. That had been a pretty blatant deflection.

“Out where?” she continued. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to know, but the words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

She watched closely as Toni and Sweet Pea exchanged a glance, that one glance speaking leagues of words.

“We honestly don’t know. He went on a job with Penny, and when they go on jobs they never tell us details.” Betty deflated at the mention of Penny, remembering her encounter with the blonde earlier that day. Another moment of silence settled over them before Betty spit out her next words, not entirely sure how they had escaped her mouth.

“Are they together?” She clamped her mouth shut tight. She hadn’t been intending on asking that, but the words had catapulted themselves from her lips. She felt dread begin to pool in her stomach at the blank stares she received from the two Serpents. If she hadn’t crossed a line before, she certainly had now. Then, again, she was shocked by the reaction of the two.

Sweet Pea choked on his burger, coughing into his elbow as Toni smacked his back between laughs. Her laughter peeled out into the open air, echoing off the high rafters. Betty simply sat and watched, unsure of what their reactions meant.

“God, _no!_ ” Toni finally managed to choke out. Betty’s shoulders dropped back away from her ears. “I wouldn’t say he hates Penny, but the relationship they have isn’t one of friendship, much less romance.”

Betty tried to quell the feeling of relief in herself. Why did she feel relieved? That was something she hadn’t been expecting. She tried to shake it off before turning her attention back to the now recovering Sweet Pea.

“Pen...Penny and Jug,” he paused, unable to talk around his boisterous laughter, “I’ll have to tell him that when he gets back. That’ll put a scowl on his face.”

“No!” She watched as Sweet Pea’s laughter died and his face became serious. “I mean, please don’t tell him I asked. It’s really none of my business anyway,” she continued, trying to even out the tone of her voice after her outburst.

“Okay,” he spoke softly, “I won’t say anything. But I hope you can understand how absolutely hilarious what you said is.” She blushed for what felt like the hundredth time in less than an hour.   
“Thank you,” she answered. She moved to get up from the table, halted by a hand on her arm.

“You don’t have to leave,” Toni began, “If someone left every time Sweet Pea was an idiot then the Wyrm would always be empty.” Betty chuckled at the look of outrage on Sweet Pea’s face.

“I’m actually really tired still,” she admitted, knowing that it was only a half-truth. “Thank you for supper. Maybe tomorrow I can go get some money and pay for it?” Betty was only greeted with a look of disbelief.

“Don’t worry about paying,” Toni said, “You’re under Serpent protection, meaning every part of your stay here will be paid for.” Betty went to argue but thought better of it.

Maybe tomorrow she could figure out something with Jughead. She hated the idea of living off of someone else. Maybe he would let her work in the kitchen?

She nodded and thanked Toni for the food, whispering a quiet _good night_ as she headed back to the stairs, slowly pulling herself up one by one. She certainly felt like she was getting better, but her energy levels still weren’t quite where they used to be. She honestly was tired, even if all she had done was walk downstairs and eat. As she walked into her room she prayed silently that she would regain her energy back in the next few days, the feeling of being helpless and waited upon making her skin crawl.

* * *

She laid in bed, trying to reason out her day. She had learned much about the Serpents, but it wasn’t her encounters with the gang members that she focused on. No, it was her own actions throughout the day. Her scare with Jughead first thing that morning, something that normally would have simply startled her had transported her back to the basement. Almost anything did. She remembered walking into the phone store, the feeling of needing to constantly look over her shoulder, to check to see if she was being followed. There was an ever-present fear in her now that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. Betty wasn’t an obtuse girl. She knew enough about post-traumatic stress disorder to know that she was experiencing some of the symptoms, but it was coming to terms with that fact that was difficult. In the dead of night, in the dark with only her lamp on, it was easy to admit to herself that she was suffering. She was even aware enough to cut herself a break. She had only been free for two days, she didn’t expect to feel like one hundred percent. No, but what she hadn’t expected was the unending fear.

In the small moments that she had allowed herself to envision what her life would be like if she ever escaped Malachi, it hadn’t been anything like this. She had imagined herself being happy, living her life as usual. Hanging out with Archie, shopping with Kevin, working with her dad. She could now see that she hadn’t been imagining her future, but reimagining her past.

Her heart ached at the new knowledge that her life would probably never be like that again. Never again would she walk down the street without looking over her shoulder. Never again would she go for late night jogs. She would never be the same, and that thought alone caused a hurt so deep that she could barely breathe through the pain. She clutched at her chest, wondering if this is what having a heart attack felt like. Betty reached over to her nightstand, grabbing the new phone that sat there, and dialed the one person who she knew could help.

A groggy voice answered on the other end of the line and she couldn’t help the smile that broke across her now tear-stained face.

“Archie?” She heard shuffling through the phone and envisioned her red-haired friend moving to roll onto his back.

“Betty, I was wondering if I’d get a call from you tonight.” Betty smiled again, he had always known her best, since they were children.

“Aren’t you just the luckiest?” Her laugh got caught in her throat, a sob taking its place. The thought of him across town, sleeping in their house, made her feel homesick. She knew it was safest for her with the Serpents, but that didn’t stop her heart from wanting to be home.

“Hey, Betty.” She could hear the worry in her voice, it only made her cry harder. “Tell me what’s wrong. Do you need me to come and get you?” She could have laughed if she wasn’t crying. Archie, her biggest protector, come to slay all the bad guys.

“No,” the word came out watery, “I just needed to hear your voice.” Betty sighed into the receiver, not really wanting to talk. The sound of his even breathing was enough to put her at rest, at least for the moment.

“Are they treating you good?” Betty huffed out a laugh.

“A lot better than the last place I stayed.” She could almost hear Archie growl through the phone.

“Betty…” His voice was a warning, a clear indication that he didn’t think her joke was funny.

“I’m just kidding, Archie. Yeah, they’re treating me good. I got fed three times today, and I have a new cell phone, so miles better than how I was doing before.” Archie seemed to accept her answer, as he didn’t say anything else about her current living situation.

The line was silent for a beat before a quiet whisper filtered through. “Tell me something normal, Arch.” She waited for his response patiently, knowing that he was weighing his options carefully. Archie may have been made fun of in high school for being an empty-headed jock, but Betty knew he was so much more than that.

“I met a girl.” Betty smiled broadly, Archie talking about girls was about as normal as it got.

“How in the world did you have time to meet a girl in between getting shot and trying to rescue me?” She could hear Archie’s chuckle ring through the line and for a moment she was transported back to a time before all this mess had started. Before her dad went missing, before she had gotten Archie hurt, before she was taken.

“This one kind of found me,” Archie began, Betty hummed into the receiver, indicating that she was listening, “She was at the hospital the day I was discharged, I bumped into her and she told me to watch it, then she saw I was on crutches and….” Betty listened to Archie as he spoke of a girl with raven-black hair and a feisty attitude. It was only after about her fourth yawn that he finally put an end to their calling, whispering a soft _I wish you were home_ into the line before saying good night.

Betty lay in bed, finger hovering over the call button. There was still one more number to dial, one that she hadn’t been able to call in weeks. She left her finger descend and listened at the low rumble of the dial tone. It rings once, twice, three times before clicking over to the voicemail box that she knows is already filled with messages from her.

_Hi, you’ve reached Hal Cooper of the Riverdale Register. I’m away from my phone at the moment, please leave me a message._

Betty took a shaky breath in, not wanting to let the tears fall from her eyes. She felt a crushing weight in her chest, preventing her from breathing, from truly being able to rest. She fell asleep with a lump in her throat, unwilling to let the tears of fear escape.

 

All she knows is his hot breath on her, his hands on her skin. She moved to get away, but he is everywhere. Every inch of her is touching him, every cell in her body screaming for someone to just _help._

“No one can save you, Betty.” She whimpers at the sound of his voice, it fills every part of her with dread, her blood freezing at it.

“Please,” she whimpers, and she hates herself for sounding so weak, so frail. “Please, just stop. I’ll do anything. Just please, stop.” She recoils at the tiny slash he makes on her thigh, minor compared to some of the others that litter her body.

“I bet you would, wouldn’t you? I bet you would do just about anything I asked you to.” She feels bile rise in her throat at his words because she knows that he’s right. She is so close to giving in. The lack of sleep and daily agony of torture is taking its toll, and she knows that she would do anything he asked her if he would just let her sleep and give her a meal that wasn’t scraps. Tears spring to her eyes at the realization of the thought, and she dares to look up at him. His smirk is drenched in victory, he knows he’s almost broken her, but he’s patient. They both know this to be true. He won’t rush his victory but instead will take time to relish in it. His smile starts to twist, the sides of his mouth turning up at an impossible angle, distorting his face. Betty stares at him as he lunges at her again, knife at the ready.

“Don’t come any closer!” she screams, trying to kick her arms and legs at him, anything to deter him. She feels dread all the way up her spine as he grabs her arms and pins her to the bed. “Malachi, no…” She feels a rigidity in her limbs like she doesn’t have the strength to push him off, like she could never escape his hands.

“Get away from me, _get away!”_

* * *

The rain is pouring now as they pull up to the Wyrm. He has blood dried in the cracks of his knuckles, the only physical sign of what he’s done. His gut twists uncomfortably, his mind reliving every punch, every sound of knuckle hitting bone. He hears a content sigh beside him and again he wonders how she is so used to this. How it doesn’t affect her more. How it doesn’t weigh on her as it does on him.

“Thanks for the help tonight, Jug.” She moves to pat him on the shoulder, and he can’t understand why he wants to inch away from her, but he does. He lets loose a breath that has been caught in his chest since they left the warehouse. He usually isn’t one to ask questions, but tonight he needs to know.

“When are we letting him go, Pen?” His hated how soft his voice sounded, like a child needing to be reassured. It made the skin crawl across every inch of his body, but in the end, his need for an answer would always win out against his need for control.

“When I find out how to get my money or my product,” Jughead jerked his head up, heart beating uncontrollably now.

“For what purpose?” This wasn’t protocol. The deal was always simple. Catch, scare, release. Penny used to joke it was a lot like fishing, but his father had never taken him, so the reference had been lost on him.  Jughead was a creature of habit, and a disruption to the routine was enough to send his brain into overdrive.

“Because the fucker still owes me money, and he’s slimy. If I let him go I’ll never get my money. He’ll find a way to hide from me and I’m not content with that. I’m going to keep questioning him until he gives me the money, or tells me who he sold the guns to. I’ll get my cash, and then we let him go.” Jughead knew that what she was saying made sense. Knew that she was just protecting her assets, as well as her reputation. But that didn’t stop his heart from trying to beat right out of his chest and into his lap. He could visualize the mess it would make in his vehicle, the offending red monstrosity beating mercilessly in front of him while he asphyxiated.

He shook his head slightly, the image of his beating heart disappearing, but the pounding of it still present in his chest.

“Hey,” he felt her hand on his arm this time, “Jug, you’re having a panic attack.” Jughead heard the words leave her mouth, had heard them before. It was something that didn’t happen often anymore. They had been more prevalent when his mom left and his dad had started drinking more. Penny was the only one who knew he had them, the only one who had helped him out of one, the only one who he could trust to not think he was weak. She knew better than anyone what weakness looked like.

“Shit,” he heard muttered beside him, his sight dulling into shapes of gray and black. He felt like he was suffocating, his throat closing off more by the second. He could distantly hear Penny digging for something besides him, followed by the telltale sound of a lighter being lit. A hand gripped his face, turning him to look at her fully, his eyes still fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

He felt the rush of warm air, the smell of tobacco and nicotine permeating the small space. He realized in the back of his mind that Penny had lit a cigarette in his vehicle, something that would normally irritate the shit out of him, but at the moment he couldn’t find the motivation to be mad about it. He sucked in a tiny breath, feeling the nicotine hit his tongue.

Logically, he knew that it was more psychosomatic than the actual nicotine calming him. He knew that it was the deep breathes that he was now taking, trying to inhale the second-hand smoke, the belief that the drug would calm him calming him more than the actual drug ever could. He knew all that in his mind, but it never failed to pull him out of an attack. It was a tactic that they had discovered long ago, and it was one that he tried his best not to practice. He had quit smoking when he moved to New York and had vowed, after days of sweating out the nicotine and avoiding bright lights, that he wouldn’t start again, but sometimes there was only one way to get his attention when he was panicking, and a smoke seemed to be the way.

There was also the added intimacy it created between them. The practice usually involved Penny starting the cigarette and blowing the smoke into Jughead’s face, forcing him to breathe it in. It was in those moments that she got so close he could see the individual flecks of grey in her blue eyes, could see the small freckles that dusted her cheeks. He remembered thinking on many occasions that she could be considered pretty, gorgeous even. He knew that she must be, considered how many guys hung around her at parties, but he had never thought about it himself, had never considered her an option.

She had been his best friend, his confidant, the pain in his ass, the antagonist in his life, for so long that he could only see her as one thing. She was Penny, simply Penny.

He felt her hands leave his face, reaching instead to bring his hand up to grip the cigarette for himself.

“Finish that,” she whispered the words quietly, her face still so close to his. “And don’t worry about this anymore. I’m dealing with it, and I promise that you won’t get caught up in any of the mess.” He nodded, more so out of reflex than actual agreeance. It wasn’t the mess he was worried about, but he couldn’t tell Penny what actually bothered him about it all, couldn’t tell her that in all of their shady dealings it wasn’t the mess or the illegal activity, but the darkening of his soul that caused him to worry.

He was worried that one day all the light would be chased out of him and never be allowed back in.

 

He walked up the back steps to his room, still feeling the fuzzy after-effects of his panic attack. Penny had sent him inside with the strict orders to _sleep it off_. She lived in a small trailer out in Sunnyside, a few doors down from his old trailer before his dad had moved them to the Wyrm full-time.

He reaches the landing, pausing before walking to his door. Betty’s room was at the other end of the hallway, and as much as he would love to go and crash into his sheets, the unexpected pull towards her tugged at his limbs, urging his legs to stand outside her door.

He raised a hand to knock, then thinking of the time, thought better of it. He rested his head against the door, letting out a long sigh.

“You are an idiot,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t know what he expected, or even what he wanted his end goal to be. He didn’t even know why he was so interested in this girl that he had met hardly even a full day ago. He just felt _something_ pulling inside him, like those strong magnets that he would play with as a kid. The ones that would attract through tables and doors, amazing all his friends. The ones that would circle each other, around and around, until smashing into each other, as if they couldn’t stand to be apart any longer.

“But you’re no magnet, Jones,” his voice whisper quiet in the dark, “and even if you were as attractive as one, you and her would be polar opposites.”

He took his head away from her door, having had enough self-deprecating thoughts for one evening. He was about to walk back to his own room when he heard a noise from the door. He paused in the darkness, waiting to see if he just imagined it, but no, there it was again. Shuffling and muttering, the words sounding muffled.

His heart raced and he immediately thought back to earlier that evening, when Sweet Pea had called him and told him the Ghoulies had her apartment surrounded. He hadn’t imagined that the rival gang would be stupid enough to break into his bar, but even the Ghoulies could surprise you sometimes. His heart banged against his ribs, going a mile a minute, and he didn’t even process his thoughts before they turned into actions, his hand coming to grip the door handle, his shoulder pushing to shove the door open.

The moonlight came in through the open window, but when he came into the room he saw nothing. No intruders, no explanation for the sounds that had been coming from within the door. He took a large step inside, checking the small closet and, feeling ridiculous, looking under the bed. He finally looked down at the woman occupying the bed itself. Her blonde hair was strewn all around her head haphazardly, her arms coming to cover part of her face. Her breathing was heavy and deep, and he paused for a moment to take in her milky skin made paler by the moonlight.

She shifted slightly and he was reminded of how over the line he was right now. If she were to wake up at this precise moment, how was he going to explain his presence in her room, looming over her as she slept?  He made to leave, his foot just crossing into the hallway when he heard her speak.

“Don’t,” her words sounded weak and hazy, “don’t come any closer.” Jughead’s foot paused mid-step. He knew she wasn’t talking to him, but the panic that was laced through her was evident even in sleep. He half-turned back, watching her struggle in the sheets that were now wrapped around her limbs.

“Malachi, no,” Jughead felt an indescribable rage well up inside him as the name left the blonde’s mouth. He crossed the room in two large steps, coming to stand right beside the small bed. She had begun to thrash around now, her arms trying desperately to fight off whatever - or whoever - was in her nightmare, but were getting caught in the sheets. He leaned down to grasp her shoulders, narrowing dodging a right hook, and held her steady.

“Betty,” the words seemed to do nothing so she shook her slightly, “Betty. _Betty_ , _wake up.”_ Her green eyes flashed open suddenly, and Jughead watched as her nightmare fueled panic turned into a full-blown frenzy.

“Get away from me, _get away!”_ Jughead felt one of her feet plant firmly on his chest, catapulting him away from her. The breath knocked out of him, he barely had a moment to catch himself before he had all her blonde fury flinging herself at him. He managed to throw up his hands to catch her wrists before they connected, but he was completely unprepared for her feet kicking into his shins. He cursed in pain and tried to get her attention.

“Betty,” she kept coming at him, “Betty!” He shook her wrists, but her arms were rigid in their attempts to strike him, and he ended up jerking her whole body back and then forth again.

The quick movement seemed to snap her from her half-nightmare, half-awake assault on him, and it was only then that Jughead noticed how close her face was to his, her eyes wild and her breathing heavy.

“Jughead?” He watched the confusion form on her face. “What are you doing in here?”

Jughead sighed quietly. “I was walking past your room,” _liar,_ his inner voice chided, “and I heard something from inside your room. I popped my head in to make sure you were alright and you were having a nightmare. You seemed really upset and…” He words slowed at the horrified look on her face. His jaw tightened, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel unsafe. He dropped his gaze to the floor, ashamed to meet her eyes.

“Did you hear anything?” Her voice was quiet and unsure, a shaken quality accompanying the words.

“Barely, just something about getting away.” He muttered the words to the floorboards, not wanting her to see the shame and lies that his eyes held. He knew he wasn’t being honest, and he didn’t want her to know too. Then, before he could stop the words, “Do you want to talk about it?” The words slipped out and hung in the air between them, the tension so visceral that it was like a taut string being pulled to the brink of snapping. He saw her shake her heard and felt the small sigh escape her lips, the breath landing on him.

“No, Jughead. I’d like to be alone, please.” He nodded at her request, releasing the arms that he hadn’t realized he was still holding. He slipped away from her, heading to the door. He placed one hand on the knob, ready to leave, before looking back to see her curled up on the bed, back pressed to the wall, knees crushed into her chest.

“I’m so sorry, Betty. For everything they did to you, and for bothering you tonight.” He slipped out and clicked the door shut behind him before she could speak, not wanting to hear her sad voice again.

He moved to the side of the door, back pushed against the old wallpaper, and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw green dots flashing in the blackness. _So stupid,_ the groan that was aching to be released staying seated within his chest. _So fucking stupid._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at crescentmoonmadness.tumblr.com!


	7. Out of the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back! A little update for those of you who care: I had my baby! A beautiful little girl who is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. Hence why this chapter is so late coming out. Turns out, babies take a lot of care and attention. Who knew? Now that she is finally in a routine I can sneak away to get some writing done! I can't wait for y'all to read this chapter! I'm pretty happy with where we ended up and I'm so excited to share what comes next!

Betty sat with her head in her hands, the door clicking shut behind him. _ I shouldn’t have told him to leave.  _ Shame washed over her as the memories from the night before came to the forefront of her mind. Her nightmare had gotten the best of her, and she had attacked someone without realizing, and worst of all, that someone had witnessed her distress. Her stomach coiled at the thought of anyone knowing just how deeply she was affected by her trauma. She wasn't one to share her pain, especially with someone she barely knew. 

Betty sat there for a long time before finally laying down, not wanting sleep to claim her, the fear of having another nightmare loomed above her. When the sun was starting to peek its face above the horizon, she finally drifted back off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning with the memories of a dark and damp basement. 

 

The sun blasted into her room, causing black spots to overlay her vision. She lifted an arm to cover her eyes, trying to protect them from the intrusive rays that battered her. She reached blindly over to grab her cell phone, groaning when she realized that she slept for five hours. Frustration coursed through her. She wanted to sleep, craved it, but it evaded her at every turn.

Her mind flashed back to Jughead and her stomach plummeted. She had hit him last night or at least attempted to. She thought back,  _ hit  _ wasn't even the right term. It was more of a full-on attack. Betty grimaced at the memory. She wanted to crawl back under the covers and hide there for the rest of the day, but her stomach was twisting painfully in hunger. 

She threw the blanket off herself and moved to the dresser, grabbing a simple t-shirt, the neckline bejeweled with tiny pearls, and skinny jeans. She grabbed her toiletries bag and poked her head out of her door, not entirely sure why she was checking to see if the coast was clear. 

She moved into the bathroom just down the hall, locking the door behind her. She needed a shower, but the stitches in her leg were making that difficult. She knew that she probably shouldn’t get them wet, the shower would have to wait. Maybe she could ask Toni for a garbage bag to wrap around her leg? Or maybe there was another bathroom in the bar the featured a tub instead of a shower, though she thought that would be very doubtful. 

She looked in the mirror, the dark bruises under her eyes uncharacteristic, her skin pallid and dry. Betty looked into her bag, bringing out her favorite face wash and moisturizer. She was hoping that getting back into some semblance of a routine would help her feel better, less like a prisoner and more normal. 

Betty scrubbed gently at her face with the wash, trying to visualize all the horrors she had experienced being washed off, leaving her and her skin new and shiny. It worked, to a point, but she couldn’t help but still feel  _ his  _ hands on her, making her feel instantly dirty again. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and applied her moisturizer, rubbing it gently into her skin. 

Next, she brushed her teeth, loving the comforting minty taste in her mouth. She swiped mascara gently over her eyelashes and packed up her things, not feeling like putting anything more than minimal effort into her appearance at that moment. She mother’s words rang clearly through her mind, bringing a small smile to her face.

_ Appearances aren’t everything, Elizabeth, but they do count for something.  _

Betty walked back to her room, setting her bag down on the dresser before moving towards the staircase. She knew she should have still felt some sort of apprehension while walking into the proverbial lion’s den, or snake’s den, in her case, but her hunger was too strong to listen to her fear. 

She came to the base of the stairs, seeing no familiar faces except one. He was hidden in the same booth as yesterday, it seemed to be his almost. All day yesterday, she hadn’t seen a single soul sit in that booth except for her and Toni, and Sweet Pea. She wasn’t too familiar with gang rules, but she was smart enough to surmise that the booth obviously was intended for him and his closest people. She still wasn’t sure why she was allowed to sit there. Protection, perhaps? Wanting to keep her away from the other Serpents? She had no clue. 

She approached him slowly, seeing him engrossed in a novel. As she neared closer she could see it was a tattered copy of Dave Cullen’s  _ Columbine. _

“Pretty depressing read,” she uttered, shocking even herself with the words. She hadn’t meant to say them out loud, but she couldn’t take them back now. 

She waited for him to tell her to mind her own business, but he simply smiled at her. Not the smug smirk he had been sporting the last few days during their encounters, but a genuine smile. 

“It can be,” he began, “but most true stories are.” She couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the edges of her lips tug upwards. “Besides,” he continued, “they say to read what’s relevant to you.” 

Her eyebrow quirked at the statement. “And how are school shootings relevant to you?” She grimaced slightly at the words, hearing how they came out teasing instead of seriously, as she had intended. 

“I was in one when I was younger.” She watched him carefully, looking to see if he was simply trying to shock her. When his face didn’t waver she sat in the booth across from him, sucked in by her compulsive need to know more. 

“What do you mean? Like you witnessed one? Or…” 

“I didn’t participate in one,” he interrupted, “if that’s what you’re thinking. There was one at Southside High when I was a sophomore.” Betty thought back to her high school days, knowing that she and Jughead had to be close in age. She remembered something about a school shooting happening across town when she was in her freshman year, meaning that Jughead was about a year older than her. 

She also remembered how outraged she had been by the lack of sympathy from the Northside teachers at the news of the shooting. Most of it had been sluffed off on the idea that those kinds of things only happened on the Southside, and only because the people that lived there were trashy and uncivilized, as she had heard many people say. 

“That must have been terrifying,” she whispered, looking down at the table. 

“It was the scariest day of my life,” he admitted, “It still is.” She nodded her agreeance, not knowing what to say or do next. She watched as he flopped his book down on the table. “But I know you didn’t come all the way down here to talk about my sad history.” She looked up again to see him smiling, the brilliance of it blinding her. 

“You caught me,” she said, her stomach choosing that exact moment to grumble its protest. She looked down, horrified at the betrayal of her body, hearing the rumble of laughter across from her. It didn’t last long, but what she heard sounded like music, a deep timbre that echoed in her bones. 

“What would you like? I’ll go put in an order for you.” Betty looked up at him again, marveling at how different he seemed from when they first met. Her mind flashed to her mother, and the special treat she had always made Betty when she was sick or not feeling well.

“Could I get a grilled cheese?” she questioned. He simply nodded and left the booth, walking towards the kitchen. 

Betty stared at the wooden table, examining the scratches and nicks that had been made over time. She tried to connect the Jughead that had been sitting across from her to the one that had picked her up on the side of the road. They were nothing alike. One was cold, direct, a force to be reckoned with. The man that had only moments before been sitting across from her was kind, gentle, obviously an avid reader. Not someone that she would accuse of being the leader of a well-known gang, a thought that she couldn’t help but realize had been a reoccurring one over the last couple of days. 

She stared at the table, almost sure that she would soon bore holes right into it. These people were nothing like she thought they would be. They were nothing like the Ghoulies. She had been so quick to want to stick a label to them, to write them off as all the same, but the Serpents were making that harder and harder the more she got to know them. 

She jumped slightly as a plate was placed in front of her, the glass clattering against the wood that she had been staring at so intently. He chuckled above her, coming to sit across from her again. She waited for him to sit down, noticing that he hadn’t brought anything for himself. 

“Where’s yours?” He looked confused at her question but seemed to understand once she gestured towards her plate. 

“I already ate,” he stated simply. She waited for him to say more, but instead, he picked up his book, his eyes training back on his page. She watched him for a moment before her stomach reminded her once again of the task at hand. She picked up her sandwich, biting into it. She could have moaned at the simple goodness of it. It was perfectly crisp on the outside, yet still gooey on the inside, everything a good grilled cheese should be. She was about halfway through her first half when his voice drifted over to her again. 

“Have you always lived here?” She finished her bite, setting down her sandwich and swallowing carefully. “In Riverdale, I mean.”

“Yeah, ever since I was born.” She wondered at his question, and what had brought it on. He nodded at her answer. “I grew up on the Northside,” she explained further, not dwelling on why she had a sudden need to answer his question so thoroughly. 

A look of understanding, or maybe recognition, crossed his face. 

“That explains why I’ve never seen you around,” he uttered. When she raised an eyebrow at him he went on. “It’s just that not a lot of Northsiders cross the tracks.” She wanted to protest his statement, to say that it was a generalization, but the words wouldn’t leave her lips. She had only once in her life crossed the tracks and it had ended in gang violence, just like the common stereotype would like everyone to believe.

“What about you, have you ever left Riverdale?” It was an innocent enough question, but the look that replaced his smile had her believing that she had crossed a line. “You don’t have to answer,” she blurted out, the words rushing from her mouth. 

He raised his hand to stop her words, “No, it’s ok.” He took another pause before continuing, “I moved to New York for a while.” 

She watched as his gaze turned wistful. She had heard so much about New York, and it had always been the plan to graduate high school and move there for college, but then life got crazy, and her mom had needed her. 

“What was it like?” she finds herself asking, not realizing the words had left her mouth until it was too late. She wasn’t expecting the content look that donned his face. 

“Amazing. It’s just like everything you could imagine, and so much more. Every inch of the city is alive with so much energy, it’s palpable.” Betty watched him as he described the city to her, his face lighting up with joy. 

“Why did you leave?” The question brought him crashing down the Earth, it seemed. She felt a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach for having done that to him. He didn’t seem like the kind of person that smiled often, and she found herself not wanting to be the reason he frowned.

“I came back for my dad. He...got himself into some trouble and I had to come back to take care of the family.” 

“Your mom and….sibings?” she ventured. He chuckled darkly at her words, letting her know that she had guessed wrong. 

“Mom and Jellybean left when I was just a kid. No, I came back to take care of the Serpents.” The words held such venom, Betty was surprised that acid didn’t land on her and burn her up on the spot.  _ Jellybean must be his sister,  _ she surmised.  _ Jughead and Jellybean?  _ Then she remembered what Toni had said about him taking over the Serpents when he was nineteen. 

She did some quick math in her head. She knew he was a year older than her, from his story about the school shooting, making him twenty-three. 

“You’ve been the leader of the Serpents for four years?” His eyebrow quirked up underneath his beanie, his question clear in his eyes.  _ How do you know that? _

She felt her cheeks redden and she looked back at the table, her sandwich sitting forgotten. “Toni told me yesterday that you took over when you were nineteen, and I know that school shooting happened when I was in my freshman year.” She studied each nook and cranny in the toasted bread in front of her, not wanting to see whatever look might be crossing his face. People usually were turned off by her observational nature, thinking that she was snoopy or overly nosy. She only looked up when she heard him chuckle again, more of a release of air than an actual laugh. 

“You are quite the detective,” was all he said. She saw amusement behind his eyes as he picked up his book again, the blue orbs training back on the words in front of him. “You should finish your sandwich.” She smiled lightly, grabbing the now luke-warm bread and taking a bite. She knew he couldn’t see her from behind his book, but she couldn’t help but feel like his eyes were still boring into her. 

She had worked her way through one half of the sandwich and started on the other before he spoke again. 

“I never got a chance to apologize,” his voice soft, “for last night.” She swallowed the bite in her mouth. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice matched his, soft, almost lost in the clank and bang of dishes from the kitchen. “But maybe, as a way of repaying me,” He quirked an eyebrow at her again, a common occurrence she was beginning to see, “maybe you would let me pick up some odd jobs around here, to pay for my room and food.” 

“That’s really not necessary. You’re under Serpent protection, you don’t have to worry about it.” She huffed at the reiteration of Toni’s words from yesterday.

“That’s what Toni said yesterday, but I can’t just sit around all day. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have something to keep me busy.” She watched him carefully as he considered her words. She was telling the truth. She had only been at the Wyrm for one whole day and she was already feeling stir crazy, her hands needing a job to do.

“If you really feel that way, I know Fangs could always use help in the kitchen.” She smiled at his words, feeling her heart lift slightly at them. “It’s not very glamorous. It’s a lot of washing dishes and prepping veggies, you’ll be greasy from working with the fryers, but at least it’s something to do.” She felt the excitement thrumming through her veins, happy to have been given a job so easily and quickly. 

“That’s totally fine. I’m a hard worker and you won’t regret having me help out.” He smiled at her enthusiastic tone, turning back to his book once again. Betty took another bite of her sandwich, feeling more accomplished than she had in weeks. 

“So the ginger from the other day, how do you know him?”

“Oh, Archie? We’ve been friends since we were kids. We grew up on the same street.” His nodded at her answer, lowering his book once again, making Betty wonder why he didn’t just put it down if he was going to keep asking her questions. 

“I knew him,” Betty knew her face must have shown surprise, if his answering smirk was any indication, “as a kid, I meant. My dad used to work for his at the construction company.” 

“At Andrews Construction?” she inquired. He nodded his agreeance. “Wow, small world.” 

He grinned at her words, although she wasn’t quite sure why. She couldn’t bring herself to mind though. Every time he smiled his blue eyes lit up and sparkled, something that she was finding she liked. She wanted to watch him smile all day.  _ Where did that come from?  _ she immediately thought.  _ Pull it together, Cooper. You barely know him,  _ she chastised. 

“I’m beginning to think the world is a whole lot smaller than any of us could imagine,” he smirked. He was quiet for a moment, allowing her to take the finishing bite of her sandwich before he continued. “So your dad, have you had any luck getting ahold of him with the new phone.” 

She wondered at his question, not quite sure why he would care.  _ Maybe he’s just curious. _

She shook her head and answered, “No, his voicemail is still full.” She waited for a moment, the full ramifications of that sentence hitting her as she tried to hold back her tears. “I’m starting to get really worried. I haven’t heard from him in weeks and it just seems a little hopeless at this point. What if…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but from the look in Jughead’s eyes, it was clear that he understood what she meant. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he whispered softly, “He has a daughter like you to come back to.” Betty smiled a watery smile at him, feeling her heart lodged in her throat. 

“Thanks,” she muttered. She knew they were empty words, there was no way for the man in front of her to know if her father was okay or not, or if he would ever come back, but they made her feel the tiniest bit better all the same. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She looked up at him, noticing that he seemed surprised at his words almost as much as she was. For a moment she thought maybe he meant her father’s disappearance until he continued. “About last night, I mean.” 

She froze, knowing that he meant her nightmare, and consequently him walking in on her in the midst of it. Her mind flashed back to the images that were forever going to be cemented in her mind. Blazing green eyes, a menacing smile, his lanky body hovering over hers. Jughead must have noticed her discomfort, the fear on her face, his hand reaching out to touch hers, but as soon as she felt the contact she ripped her hand away, the idea of being touched after remembering so vividly what had happened to her was repulsive to her. 

“Betty, you don’t have to…” She stood quickly and grabbed her plate, cutting him off with her next words. 

“Thanks for getting me breakfast, I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit.” She took off in the direction of the kitchen, not once looking back at him. She walked through the swinging door into the kitchen, finding the sink quickly and depositing her plate before walking back out into the bar, avoiding Jughead’s gaze, and running up the stairs to her room. 

* * *

Jughead sat in his booth and groaned, watching as Betty’s blonde ponytail flashed up the stairs. He brought his elbows onto the table, tossing down his book and putting his head in his heads. He just couldn’t seem to ever say or do the right thing around her. His fingers slipped underneath his beanie as he grabbed his long, black hair, pulling it roughly.

“I’ll give you one thing, Jug. You sure know how to scare off a girl.” He sighed at the voice that stood beside him, already picturing her pink hair and barely-there ensemble. 

“Fuck off, Toni,” he sighed. How  _ did  _ he manage to always scare her off? He found himself drawn to her the last few days, something about her pulling him closer, but every time he got close, she pulled away. 

He felt Toni sit across from him, the groan of the old leather giving her away. He kept his head in his hands, not wanting to see whatever look might be gracing her features. That was until he felt his world tilt on its axis, one elbow being swiped out from under his head, causing him to lurch forward from the weight he had been resting on it. He drew himself upright quickly, glaring at the woman across from him, who simply sat there smiling. 

He glared at her for another moment before letting his face relax, there was no use of being mad at her. “You spent the whole day with her yesterday, T. Tell me about her.” He ignored the Latina’s smirk and waited patiently for her to answer. 

“She’s quiet,” she began, “but curious. She asked lots of questions about you. When you became the Serpent leader, why you changed the entry age.” Jughead raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Seems like you ladies were having quite the discussion.” Toni nodded, looking deep in thought. 

“She also asked where you were last night, Jug. I couldn’t help but wonder the same.” Jughead bristled at her words. He purposefully didn’t tell any of the other Serpents where he went and what he was doing when he went with Penny. They didn’t need to get caught up in her shit storm. 

“I know you went with Penny somewhere.” He brushed off her words with a gesture. “I wish you would just tell me, or Sweet Pea, or even Joaquin. Someone should know where you are when you leave with that She-Devil.” Jughead couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He knew that Penny and Toni didn’t get along, but the fierceness with which Toni hated the blonde was something not to be reckoned with. 

“I’m being safe, T. That’s all I can tell you.” He watched as Toni rolled her eyes and waved away his words. 

“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered, “yet, somehow it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Jughead tried to catch her eye, finding success after a moment. 

“Penny isn’t going to hurt me, T.” he assured her, “She’s too scared of you,” he added for good measure. He saw her lips quirk up in a soft smile at his words and he knew that for now, he had placated her. 

“Go easy on Betty,” Toni said as she got up from the leather. Jughead furrowed his brow, wondering at her words. “We might not know exactly what she went through, but I can tell she’s had her share of trauma.” Jughead nodded at her words, not knowing how he should take them. 

He felt Toni’s hand clasp onto his shoulder as she made her way to the next table to take an order. 

“Don’t push too hard, Jug. She’s flighty.” Toni started to walk away just as Jughead called after her. 

“Hey Toni,” the Latina woman stopped to look back at him, an eyebrow raised in question, “I told her she could start in the kitchen. Do you think you could show her the ropes, just the deep fryer, and the dishwasher? I don’t want her to overdo it with that leg.” He cringed at the last part of his sentence, knowing that Toni would read too much into it, would think he meant something more than he did. He didn’t. He just wanted to make sure that Betty could feel helpful in some way, long enough to just stay put. Jughead could recognize restlessness when he saw it, and he had a feeling that Betty was more restless than most. 

“Sure thing, boss,” Toni smirked as she drifted off to her next table, leaving Jughead to think about her words. One part of him wanted to know everything about Betty, especially her history with the Ghoulies. The savage part of him, the one steeped in ice-cold hate, wanted to know everything about Malachi so he could ruin his gang from the inside out, destroying every piece of evidence that pointed to them ever existing. Yet, the other part of him, the softer side, knew that Toni was right. Betty seemed strong, but she was healing, and that was something he needed to respect. 

* * *

The warm sun beat down on his back at his ripped through the side streets of the Southside. He had decided it was time to pay Joaquin a visit, along with the red-haired guest that he had been told was staying with the Serpent.

He pulled into Sunnyside and slowed down, being mindful of the children that tended to run across the streets before looking. He looked fondly at the trailers as he went, remembering happier times when he and his family had lived there altogether. That had been years ago, his mom and Jellybean moving away when he was just fourteen. His father still lived there, opting to stay in the trailer as opposed to living at the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead had moved out when his father got released from jail, having vowed to never live under the same roof as the man ever again. 

He and his father had a rocky relationship at best, and living together had never made it easier. 

Jughead pulled up to a trailer just a few sites down from his childhood home, kicking down his stand and shutting off the engine. He climbed the stairs quickly and banged on the door with his fist. 

“Joaquin, its Jughead. Open up.” The door creaked open to reveal the Serpent, his signature black hair slicked back like it always was, blue eyes blazing in their sockets. 

“Come in,” he said smoothly, the words dripping from his mouth like honey. 

Jughead walked in through the open door, not bothering to look around at the room that he had spent countless hours in, both as a child and an adult. The only that had changed was the man sitting on the couch, eyes focused on him. 

“Hey, Arch. We need to talk.” 

 

Jughead sat across from the man that he had once known as a child, seeing some familiar features in his grown face. His hair was still as fiery as it had been when they were children, something that had gotten the other boy made fun of back then. 

“How have you been?” Jughead watched as Archie’s eyes narrowed. That was one thing that had changed. The brown depths that used to be open, full of honestly and naivety, were now slightly jaded as if they experienced parts of the world that had broken the innocence that had once been held there. 

“Cut the shit, I know you didn’t come here to talk to me about our lives, Jug.” Jughead would have been lying to say that he wasn’t taken aback by the redhead’s abrupt attitude. The once sweet and gentle boy he had known had apparently grown up into a straightforward, no-nonsense man. “How’s Betty?”

“She’s doing okay,” he ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stand up on end in the hectic way that it always did. “She’s scared.”

“She has every right to be, being locked up in that basement. She has every right to hate everyone who failed her and hide away for the rest of her life.” He wanted to reach out and grab the man’s shoulder. It was obvious that he held himself accountable for Betty’s capture. Jughead wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but that wasn’t why he had drug himself down to Sunnyside today. As much as he had loved Archie like a brother when they were kids, it wasn’t like that for them anymore. He doubted that they’d be able to pick up where they left off, pretending as if nothing had happened between them.

Jughead sat quietly for a moment, wondering about the blonde that proved to be a mystery all on her own. “What happened to her down there?” 

He caught the redhead shooting him a bewildered look, but decided to brush it off. There was no way for the other man to know what he and Betty had or hadn’t talked about since she had been at the Wyrm. 

“She hasn’t told you?” 

Jughead simply shook his head, “Bits and pieces, she doesn’t trust me.”

A scoff erupted from the man opposite him, “Can you blame her?” Jughead smirked at Archie’s words, the sarcasm evident in his voice. 

“No, she just escaped one gang, how is she to know, or even trust, when we say that we are different from them?” Archie huffed a sigh of agreement, his hands coming to rest on either side of his face. Jughead watched as he applied light pressure, something he was happy to see. It was something that he had started doing as a young child when things got hard, or confusing, or just too much. The redhead would bring his hands to his face and squeeze lightly, squishing his cheeks and distorting his mouth. Jughead was happy to see that this one thing hadn’t changed. 

“I’m sure she’ll figure it out. She’s the smartest person I know.” 

Jughead chuckled at the admiration in the man’s voice. It was obvious that he loved her. Jughead thought back to the multiple phone calls Archie had made to the Wyrm, checking to see if Betty had gotten a new phone yet. Jughead had known immediately that the redhead cared about her deeply. He wanted to ask how long they had been dating, but instead simply said, “You’re pretty smart yourself, Arch.”

Archie barked a laugh at Jughead’s statement. “Nah, you were always the smart one. I was the one who got us in trouble.” Jughead scoffed with amusement. 

“And I was the one who talked us out of it.”

They were silent again for a moment and again Jughead found himself wondering how the two had started dating. It was so obvious to him that they had a romantic relationship, the care and love was evident between the both of them. It was the kind of love that was easy, no struggle necessary. Something that Jughead figured he would never feel himself. He was messy and unpolished. He never expected his love life to be anything other than that. 

“I know she grew up on the Northside, on your street actually. It amazes me that I’ve never met her, we used to run around your street all day every summer.”

Archie shrugged noncommittally, “Her mom never let her play with me when we were kids. She said that young ladies weren’t meant to play in the dirt with boys. As far as I can remember, Alice had Betty and her sister in every extracurricular known to Riverdale.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow at the new information. 

“She has a sister?” 

“Yeah, Polly. But she moved away as soon as she graduated. She’s never come back as far as I know. She and her mom didn’t get along.” Jughead watched Archie straighten, pulling himself to sit up straight once again. “Betty goes to visit her sister once a year out in Manchester. She’s got twins, so Betty likes to go out and visit so the kids don’t forget her face. Her words, not mine.”

“Her mom sounds like a piece of work.” 

Archie shrugged again, another thing that reminded Jughead of the young boy he knew from his past. “Believe me, Alice Cooper has always been a force to be reckoned with.” Jughead nodded at the words, feeling the next question poised on his tongue. Archie had always been an oversharer, and he would be an idiot to pass up an opportunity to learn more about the elusive blonde that had taken up room in his mind for days now. 

“And her dad, are they close?”

“Yeah, they’ve always been close. Closer after Polly left. Hal taught Betty how to fix cars, to get her out of the house, away from her mom. I remember the day Hal actually stood up to her and told her that Betty was going to learn how to change her own oil. I’ve never anyone talk to Alice like that before, and I never heard anyone talk to her like that since.” Jughead tucked that information away for later. Maybe he could get Betty to open up to him if he let her into the Serpent’s garage?  “It was the one time Hal stood up to her, I think,” Archie continued.

“What about her dad? Any ideas where he could be?” Archie shook his head, his shoulders caving in on themselves, making the size of the man shrink to about half his size. 

“None. Like she said the other day, we searched for days before we even got the lead on the Ghoulies. One that turned out to be a dead end, there was nowhere else to look.”

Jughead sighed harshly, “Fuck,” he cursed. He decided to take a different angle, wanting to find out as much as he could. 

“What about the nightmares?”

“Nightmares?” Archie’s voice was clouded with confusion, making Jughead wonder if he knew anything about the dreams that seemed to be plaguing Betty. 

“Yeah, I walked in on her having one last night and she just about took my eye out.”

Archie’s face turned into a scowl immediately, the distrust written clearly across his face. Jughead internally cursed himself. Of course, it would be weird for him to be in Betty’s room, any boyfriend would be suspicious of that. 

“What were you doing in her room?” The words came out harshly, rough in the redhead’s throat. 

“It was nothing like that,” Jughead hurried to explain, “I know we haven’t spoken since we were kids, but I’m still not that kind of guy.” Archie’s shoulders lowered away from his ears, placated for the time being. Jughead hurried to continue his explanation. “I heard her through the door and went in to see if she was okay. I was worried that a Ghoulie had broken in and was trying to hurt her, but she was just having a nightmare and an awful, by the swing of her right hook.”

Archie exhaled slowly, the breath slipping through slightly gritted teeth. “She had one the night she came home too,” he admitted, “but she wouldn't tell me what it was about.” There was silence for a moment, then, “Maybe I could talk to her, come over to the bar and…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Arch.” Jughead interrupted, “Right now the Ghoulies don’t know where she is, but if you come sniffing around that’ll be a pretty big tip-off.” Jughead tried to believe his own words, but something inside him knew that they weren’t entirely truthful.

“Okay,” Archie seemed to accept Jughead’s explanation, making the dark-haired man feel all the more guilty. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.” Jughead looked at him, wanting to comfort him somehow, but knowing that that wasn’t his job anymore. 

“I promise you I’ll keep her safe.” It wasn’t much, but it was all he could offer to the other man. 

Archie nodded, a look of defeat settling over him. “Okay,” he whispered. 

Jughead’s phone rang at that moment, Toni’s caller ID showing on the display. 

“Shit, I gotta go. You okay with Joaquin for a few more days?” Archie nodded, Jughead noticed that the redhead was doing his best not to look pained, but he was unsuccessful. Archie always had been the worst liar. 

“Yeah, I’m going a little stir crazy, but he’s got food so I can’t complain too much.”

Jughead chuckled at the words, feeling a blast of nostalgia come over him. Memories of his and Archie running around, always searching for their next snack, whether it was at the hands of Mary Andrew and her infamous ants on a log, or Pop and his cheese and chili smothered fries, the two had always been looking for food to eat. “Same old Archie.” 

Jughead stood from the couch, seeing his phone remind him that he had missed a call from Toni. He headed toward the door but didn’t make it far before he heard the redhead speak up from behind him again.

“Hey, Jug, hold up man.” Jughead stopped and turned, coming to face Archie who had also risen from the couch, revealing his true height. “I’m sorry for not trying harder, to keep in touch after your dad…” 

Jughead stopped him, raising his hand in front of his chest. “Arch, we were kids. That shit was a lot bigger than the two of us.” He brought his hand to slap down on the redhead’s shoulder gently.

“Right.” Archie nodded at Jughead’s words, his face showing confusion. “It’s been really good to see you though.” These words came out sincere, and Jughead couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“You too, buddy.” 

Jughead opened the door and walked into the sunshine, closing it quickly behind him. Joaquin was sitting on the front step, cigarette smoke curling from the white stick hanging between his fingers. 

“Watch him close, Quin. I know what stir crazy looks like on him. He can’t leave Sunnyside unless you’re with him. Understand?” Jughead knew he was right. Archie couldn’t come anywhere near the Wyrm if they wanted to keep Betty’s location a secret. It was the safest option for her. And he had promised Archie that he would keep her safe. 

“You got it, boss.” Joaquin stubbed out the cigarette, coming to stand beside Jughead. 

Jughead took one look at the trailer beside the one he stood in front of now. He could go over, say hello to his dad, make sure he was happy and comfortable, but the thought of walking into his childhood home, of reliving all the horrible things that had happened there, was enough to make him walk down the stairs towards his bike. 

He had left Sunnyside behind a long time ago, there was nothing there for him now. 

* * *

The wind whipped by him as he made his way back to the Wyrm. His phone call with Toni had been short but sweet. They needed to get the alcohol order in for the week and he needed to sign off on it. He needed to get back to bar if they wanted to get their order to the supplier before they ran out, and running out of tequila and beer was never a good option around the Serpents.

He took in the slums of Southside as he drove. Every street was run down, buildings sitting dilapidated, falling off their foundations. He saw teens and adults alike lurking in alleyways, probably waiting for their next hookup. He hated the way Riverdale viewed the Southside, but when he witnessed the crime on this side of town, he couldn’t help but understand why they had the reputation they did. That didn’t mean he liked it, and that didn’t mean he would settle for accepting the stereotypes that were thrust upon the residents under his care. 

He pulled into the garage off to the side of the bar. Jughead slipped his helmet off, setting it on the seat. It was new, at least newer than anything he had ever owned. It fully covered his head and face, the visor tinted a dark black that prevented his face from being seen through it, but anyone who saw his bike would know it was him anyways. He walked up to the Wyrm, the wooden planks donning the front of the building showing their age, weathered by the sun, rain, and snow. 

He walked up the steps and pushed open the heavy oak doors, revealing the dimly lit bar. They kept it dark inside to deter passersby from wandering in. Usually, anyone who got turned around and walked into the bar was guaranteed to walk back out fairly quickly. Something about poor lighting and men in leather seemed to fend off any unwanted visitors. 

Jughead wandered over to the bar, looking around idly for the petite woman who had summoned him to the bar. He only waited a few moments before he could hear her voice filtering out from the kitchen. He made to walk through the door, pushing it open and coming to lean against the frame. He tried to fight the curl of his lip at the sight in front of him. 

Betty was standing in front of a deep fryer, her face scrunched in concentration. He watched the way her nose would crinkle every now and again at something Toni said. Toni was busy telling the blonde how to know when certain foods were done cooking. He could tell that Betty was listening closely, taking every bit of her new responsibility seriously, even if she was just in charge of deep-frying foods and doing dishes. 

He watched for another minute before clearing his throat, earning the attention of both women. 

“Oh, hey Jug. Here,” Jughead held out a hand as Toni grabbed a clipboard from the counter and handed it to him. He quickly signed his name at the bottom with the pen that was attached to the wooden clipboard with a dingy string. Toni was nothing if not meticulously organized. He handed back the clipboard to the woman in front of him, who was waiting impatiently. 

“If you would just give me signing authority we wouldn’t have to do this every week,” she muttered, turning to leave the kitchen. “Betty, I have to go put this order in, but once those fries are done you can take them out and salt them.” Toni disappeared from the kitchen, squeezing past Jughead through the door. 

Jughead just stood there for a moment, leaning against the wall, watching her. She took out the fries and lightly dusted salt over them, placing them on the counter when she was done. He willed her to turn around, to simply look at him, to acknowledge his existence. Jughead didn’t know why it was so important to him that she paid him attention. Maybe it was because he was used to commanding attention in every room he walked into. He wasn’t used to be looked over, but instead of irritating him, it only made him more desperate to gain her good faith.

He wanted to be someone she trusted. 

“Hey,” he began, quietly at first, “Would…I mean, do you…” 

She turned to face him, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but the words stuck in his throat when she looked at him. What was happening to him? He urged himself to get it together. Clearing his throat, he continued quickly, hoping to get all the words out this time. 

“Do you want to get out of here for a bit?” If he had to guess at the expression on her face, he would say it was one of shock. He felt the same way if he was being honest with himself. Hadn’t he just told Archie that he couldn’t come to visit in order to keep the blonde safe, and now he was offering to take her out of the bar?

He knew he couldn’t take the offer back as a look of joy spread across Betty’s face. He couldn’t dangle the carrot of freedom and then snatch it back just as quickly. 

“Absolutely,” she breathed, moving to untie her apron. Jughead smirked at her eagerness to leave the bar. 

“I’ll be out front,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the front door. Jughead tried not to regret the decision as soon as he made it, tried to see it as simply doing something nice for someone who needed kindness. But even he knew that it wasn’t that simple. 

He would never consider himself a selfish person. He helped his people when they needed him. He had stuck out his neck for Serpents more times than he could count. There was the time that Sweet Pea had been kicked out of his uncle’s place. Jughead had offered the man his couch before Sweet Pea had even finished telling Jughead what had happened. 

And the time that Toni’s boyfriend had been stupid enough to lay a hand on her? Jughead and a band of his men had been on the scumbag’s doorstep before Toni could stop them. And when Jughead had returned to the Wyrm, only to hear the reason  _ why  _ the spineless man had touched her? Well, needless to say, it took a few men to hold him back from making a repeat visit. 

He still remembered the tears in Toni’s eyes, the look of fear and self-loathing. 

_ “I told him I think I’m bi, Jug. He was quiet at first, but then he started shouting, saying how I was such a slut and telling me that what I am is wrong and dirty. Then he started swinging.”  _

Jughead had watched as his best friend broke down in tears and even to this day could remember with perfect clarity the feeling of rage washing through him, ice cold where there should have been heat. 

So it wasn’t that he was not used to being there for people. Something about his kindness towards Betty felt different though. 

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Jughead once again felt that pull in his chest. He tried to shrug it off. He was just getting her out of the bar, getting some fresh air. 

“Ready?” Her voice was sunny and warm, her eyes bright. Jughead nodded, swallowing visibly, giving himself a mental shake. He needed to get his shit together. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he pushed through the front door, knowing instinctively that she would be following him. He headed towards the garage but turned when he stopped hearing gravel crunch behind him. She was waiting beside his SUV, giving him a strange look. 

“Oh no, Betty. We aren’t taking that,” He smirked at her, jerking his head towards the building behind him. She quirked an eyebrow, something that he was noticing she did often. It was adorable.  _ What the hell? _ He didn’t call people adorable, couldn’t even remember ever thinking it, except that one time when Sweet Pea had passed out drunk curled around Fangs, but that instance had warranted the word.

He turned and started towards the garage again, confident that she would follow him. Shouldering open the door, he roughly pushed the button to open the larger door. He smiled as he looked at the vehicle sitting in front of him, passed down to him from his father. It was really the only thing that he had appreciated being given by the older Serpent. He heard a choking noise behind him and turned quickly, only to see Betty’s stricken face. 

“A bike?” He laughed silently at her reaction, he should have expected it from a Northsider, but it still amused him. 

“Is that okay?” he asked, sidling up to her. She didn’t take her eyes off the machine, instead nodding mutely to answer his question. Handing her a helmet that had been hanging on the wall, he walked over to the machine, threw one leg over and started it quickly. The rumble underneath him vibrated into his very soul. Something about the vibrations made him feel calmer than anything else in his life. Like when he was on his bike, nothing could touch him and nothing could hurt him. 

He watched patiently as Betty slowly made her way over to him, the look on her face screaming reluctance.

“I’ll go slow,” he muttered, adding a sarcastic, “Scout’s honor,” when she looked at him in disbelief. 

She stood there for a moment longer and shook her head slightly, seeming to make up her mind about something before pulling on the helmet he had given her. He reached for his own helmet resting on the handlebars and pulled it on. He pulled the strap tight and lifted the visor.

“Well,” he raised an eyebrow at her, “hop on.” 

Jughead faced forward, twisting the handle to rev the engine as she threw on leg daintily over the bike. It was obvious to him that she was trying to get on while touching him as little as possible. He tried to repress the shiver that went down his spine as she gingerly placed her hands on top of the sides of his ribs. 

“You’re going to have to hang on tighter than that,” he spoke loudly to be heard over the sound of the motor. She must have heard him because her hands crept around to the front of him. He huffed a sigh at the lightness of her grip. Without thinking he reached up and grabbed her hands, wrapping them tightly around his middle. He could feel her breath against the back of him, quick, short gasps, and smiled at what that might mean. 

He returned his hands to the handlebars and revved the engine one more time before pulling out to the garage, taking off once they reached the pavement of the street. He knew exactly where to take her.

* * *

Betty watched as sunlight poked through the trees. She had no idea where Jughead was taking her, but they had left town and were now riding down a dirt road. His back felt warm against her chest and she couldn’t help but feel at peace.

She feels them slowing down and realizes that they must be close to their destination. She can’t stop from chastising herself. She wants to feel wary of Jughead, maybe even scared, like her common sense is telling her she should be, but she just...can’t. There’s something about him that is so familiar, so calming that even though she barely knows him, she feels like she does. Maybe she doesn’t know every detail about his past and his childhood, but she feels like she knows his soul, like some part of her soul is in sync with his. 

She shakes her head as they come to a stop in a clearing, removing her hands from his waist as soon as he cut the engine. She pushes those thoughts out of her mind.  _ You don’t want this,  _ she reminds herself.  _ You are staying at the Wyrm for a reason. Safety. That’s it. You stay there until it’s safe and then… _

But the truth was she didn’t know what came next. When was she ever going to be safe? How could anyone guarantee her safety when the Ghoulies still wanted her dead, with Malachi on a murderous mission to find her? She shuddered at the thought of the man, a dark cloud settling over her face. 

Betty dismounted from the bike and looked around at her surroundings. She had been too lost in her own thoughts to properly look around. Upon inspection, she could see that Jughead had taken her to some kind of lookout point. There was a large clearing, the forest they had come from at their backs, and a small cliff directly in front of them. She carefully walked to the edge and looked out. Beneath her was Riverdale, Southside and Northside nestled side by side. From up here, one could never tell that there was a decade-old rivalry between the two sides of town.

“I like to come here to think,” the soft voice behind her caused her to jump. She had almost forgotten that she wasn’t here alone. 

“It’s nice,” the words come out whisper soft, like if she spoke any louder she might shatter the peaceful picture that lay below them. 

“Yeah,” Jughead moved to sit on the ledge, feet dangling over the edge. “I used to come up here before I left for New York. Before my mom left, actually. When she and my dad would get into it and I needed somewhere quiet. This place was always perfect.” 

She moved to sit beside him, letting his words lay across her skin. He was doing it again, opening up to her without being asked. She wondered if he knew he was doing it, or if he would stop if she drew attention to his sharing. 

Instead, she quietly replies, “My parents used to fight too, so bad that sometimes I would sneak out the window and go sit in the treehouse in Archie’s back yard. We had a flashlight in there that I would flash into his window. He would always come sit with me and hold my hand until I felt like going back home.” 

“He’s a good guy, Archie.” Jughead replied, “I went to go see him today.” 

Betty’s eyes brightened at his words. “How is he? When can I go see him?” 

Jughead chuckled, “Funny, he asked the same thing about you.” Betty looked down at her hands that rested in her lap. She just wanted to see the redhead with her own two eyes, to make sure that he was okay. 

“I told him that a visit might not be in the cards for a while yet,” Betty’s heart clenched at that, “The Ghoulies are still watching us closely and we’re pretty sure that they don’t know you are staying with us yet and we’d like to keep it that way.” 

Betty nodded her head slowly. She understood his reasoning, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to be away from Archie. They were used to seeing each other every day and after being separated for two weeks she didn’t want to go without him again. 

“He’s pretty lucky,” Betty looked at Jughead questioningly, “You know, to have a girl like you love him.” Betty let the words sink in. Something about the way he said them made it seem as though Jughead thought they were...together. Betty felt a laugh bubble up from her chest, unable to stop it from slipping out of her mouth. Jughead looked at her, one eyebrow quirked.

“Archie and I,” she had to pause to quell her laughter, “do  _ not  _ love each other that way.” She began laughing again at the look of surprise on Jughead’s face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you thought…” She doubled over, the laughter shaking her torso. 

“I just thought… He came barreling into the Wyrm when he heard we had you, he was ready to take down a whole gang of bikers to get to you. I mean, Betts, he called the Wyrm like thirty times before you got another phone.” 

Betty stopped laughing at hearing the nickname he had uttered. A look of wonder came across her face just as a blush settled across his cheeks. He must have realized his slip up. 

“Well,  _ Jug, _ I’ve known Archie since I was a kid.” She watched his blush deepen at her emphasis on his nickname. “That boy is the overprotective big brother I never had.” She looked him dead in the eye as she spoke her next words, “He would do anything for me, and I would do the same for him. I mean, he took a bullet for me.” 

Jughead looked away from her then, staring out over the town below. She watched him for a moment before bumping his shoulder gently with hers.

“Hey, it’s fine, Jughead. I was just teasing anyway.” She watched as he smiled slightly, then added, “Archie and I did try dating in high school, for a whole three days.” She saw Jughead pull a face, which he then tried desperately to cover up. She bit back a laugh, for a fearless leader, he sure was easy to read. 

“What broke you up,” Jughead asked her, the mirth evident in his voice, “the ever-present pull of football?”

“No, actually,” Betty began, “we kissed.” This time Betty did giggle at the look of questioning on Jughead’s face before continuing, “and immediately realized it was a horrible idea. We broke up minutes later. I guess not all friendships can mature into relationships. Archie and I were meant to be friends and friends only.” She shrugged, if only to drive home her point. Archie and her romantic past didn’t matter, mainly because there wasn’t one. 

“Speaking of Archie, he told me a little about what happened to you, while you with the Ghoulies, I mean.” Betty bristled at the mention of the Ghoulies. She didn’t want to talk about anything that had happened to her in that basement. Had Archie figured out the worst that had happened? She didn’t think that was possible. She had given him no information that would have pointed him in that direction, and she loved Archie with all her heart but he wasn’t known for being a modern-day Sherlock Holmes. She relaxed once Jughead continued, the black-haired man either not noticing or not acknowledging her hackles rising. 

“I just wanted you to know that if you ever wanted to talk about it,” Betty watched him as he paused, seeming to struggle with his next words. She couldn’t help but notice the one strand of unruly hair that always seemed to hang in his face. Her hand twitched to reach out and push it off his forehead, but she quelled the urge. “Well, if you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m here.” 

Betty smiled down at her hands, “I…” He cut her off before she could say anything. 

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you to talk. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and take off like you did this morning. I just…” The words came out in a rush, pouring overtop of one another. “I just want you to know that I’m a safe person to talk to.” 

They were quiet for a long time after that, watching the sunset over the town below them. Almost ten minutes had passed before Betty spoke again. She wanted to trust him, she really did. And she needed to talk to someone about what had happened to her. 

“Malachi is pretty  _ adept,” _ her voice lowered at the word, eyes darkening, “in the art of imprisonment. He kept me in a room with no window, concrete walls, a small bed, a toilet. No privacy.” She peeked up at Jughead, expecting to see a look of horror, but his face was carefully trained into one of understanding. She continued on, “He sent someone down every day to ask me questions, they would beat me if they didn’t like my answers, or pour water over my face. After a few days, Malachi got tired of waiting for answers and started doing his own dirty work. He would come in and lock the door behind him. Sometimes he would tie me to a chair and cut me every time he didn’t like an answer I gave to his questions. Sometimes he would take my clothes away and make me sit in my room naked for hours. Sometimes he would starve me.” Her words died away into the silence, whisked away from her on the breeze that caressed her cheeks. She looked up again, expecting to see pity, but instead saw an intensity in his eyes that took her breath away. Gone were the crystalline blue depths, replaced by a steel-cold grey. His voice ground out like gravel when he spoke.

“I’m sorry that you went through that, Betty. But I can promise you that he will pay for what he did, even if I have to fight off every Ghoulie there is, he’ll pay.” She observed him, muscles taut with anger, hands clenched in fury. He looked like a god that had been scorned, ready to toss down lightning bolts to smite any and all who dared to defy him. He looked larger than life in his rage, and for some reason, she knew that he meant it. This wasn’t some empty gesture to make her feel safe. He wouldn’t let Malachi get away with his crimes. 

And something inside her, however wrong it might have been, rejoiced at that knowledge. 

 

They sat there for a while longer, until after the sun has set. They sat there long enough to watch the street lights of Riverdale flicker on one by one. It isn’t until Betty shakes from the cold that Jughead finally breaks their silence and gets up, offering her a hand once he’s standing. She took it, holding his long fingers lightly in her palm, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She stumbled briefly, legs stiff from sitting on the hard ground. She’s not even surprised when he reaches out to steady her, his hand warm where it lays on her arm.

* * *

 

She mounts the bike with less hesitance this time, wrapping her arms securely around his waist without having to be instructed how. They take off towards the Wyrm, the cold night air whipping past her face. 

She gazes at the stars for a moment, then rests her cheek on the cool leather clinging to his back, feeling his stomach tighten underneath her palms when she does. Her eyes close as they skirt through traffic, unable to stop herself from sighing.

The garage door opens in front of them, allowing Jughead to walk the bike carefully into its parking space. He removed his helmet and leaves it to hang on the handlebars. When he looks up he sees her helmet dangling from her fingers, her gaze turned to the many other bays that existed in the garage. 

He came to stand behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “You like what you see?” 

He couldn’t help but smile at the little jump she gave. Jughead took the helmet from her grasp and set it gently on the workbench. 

“I didn’t get a chance to take a look around earlier,” she said quietly, “I didn’t know all this was right here.”

“It’s not much,” he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that the Serpents had had to fight tooth and nail for every customer they had ever had, “but it’s ours and we like it.”

Betty nodded at his admission, “Who works out here?” Jughead came to stand beside her, looking at the various cars and trucks that were distributed among the four bays in the shop. 

“We all take turns, well, anybody who knows something about cars. Sweet Pea is our lead mechanic. The Serpents sent him to school to learn all about it when they realized that we could turn an honest profit fixing vehicles.”

Betty was silent for a moment before she turned to look at him, a question in her eyes. “An honest profit?” Jughead sighed, realizing that he may have said too much. He didn’t like regaling stories of the Serpents less-than-legal past. It wasn’t the way he ran the Serpents now, and he didn’t plan on going back to old ways anytime soon. 

“I don’t want to bore you with all the gory details,” he said instead. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Oh,” Betty stammered, “you… you don’t have to.” Jughead smiled at her uneasiness, whether it was due to her not wanting to inconvenience him or if she was still a little wary of him, he couldn’t tell. 

“Betty, I want to walk you,” he said softly, trying to let every ounce of sincerity leak out of his voice.

“Okay.” Her voice was soft to match his, her cheeks flushing pink. 

He smiled at her, something he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing. “Okay.”

 

They arrive at her door sooner than Jughead wanted. Even though he had spent the entire evening with her, he didn’t want it to be over yet. She was easy to talk to and he liked listening to her talk in turn. 

“Well, this is me,” Jughead couldn’t help but chuckle at her attempt at a joke. It may have been dorky to anyone else, but it was just endearing to him. 

“Hey,” Jughead looked up from his shoes into the depths of her green eyes, almost falling into them, “I never got a chance to say thank you. You know, for taking me for a ride, and listening to me.” 

He moved a little closer, whispering quietly, “Of course, Betts,” using the nickname that had surprised her earlier, “anytime you want to take a ride, just let me know.” 

She giggled a little at his words, ducking her head down quickly before meeting his eyes again, this time a challenge hid behind her emerald eyes. “I definitely will,” she murmured.

He kept looking at her, neither of them breaking eye contact, and he wanted to blame it on the sunset, or her resting her cheek on his back on the way home, or ever on the way she was looking at him right now, but the truth was, when he leaned in to kiss her, it was simply because he wanted to. 

He closed his eyes and leaned, closer and closer, his nose brushing along hers. His whole body tightened in anticipation and he knew his lips would find their mark shortly. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. 

What he didn’t see were her eyes widening, shock on her face, her back recoiling into her door, her hands reaching out to push his chest as hard as she could. 

He stumbled back as her hands met his chest, his eyes flying open to see the abject horror on her face. His heart fell through to his stomach, sitting there like lead. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice ragged before she opened her door and slipped inside. 

He took two quick steps to stand just outside her door, hand resting gently on the worn wood. He lowered his forehead to the piece of wood that separated them, wondering why the hell he kept doing this. Every time he got closer to her, he ended up pushing her away. 

_ What the hell is wrong with me? _

* * *

He walked down the stairs, his feet feeling like they each weighed a tonne. He wanted to fall into a hole, or maybe dig his own grave. Something that would alleviate the shame and humiliation that rocked through him.

He made his way to the bar, sticking his head into the kitchen to quickly tell Fangs to put in an order for his usual. Jughead stood at the bar for a moment, wanting more than anything to pour himself a drink, to drown the memory of his transgression. But he wasn’t his father, and he wouldn’t turn to the bottle when he made mistakes. 

Jughead desperately just wanted to sit down and try to forget the major misstep he had just taken. He headed towards his booth, seeking solitude but was greeted instead by blonde hair and black leather. 

“Hey, Jug,” her gravelly voice floated over to him, “how was your ride with the Northside Princess?” He scowled at her smirk, hating that she knew any more about his personal life than was necessary. Penny was always tricky for Jughead to navigate. He helped her because he didn’t want any of the other Serpents to get caught up in her mess, but somewhere along the way they had become...certainly not friends, but less antagonistic towards each other. They understood one other. And it was almost impossible for him to see her the same way ever since he had rescued her from the Ghoulies. Something about the fear in her eyes that night had changed their relationship forever.

But that didn’t mean that every once in a while Penny wouldn’t dig the knife in a little too deep and his tolerance of her would drop drastically. This was one of those times. He had no desire to sit with her and hear her make fun of the woman that he had once again chased away from himself. 

“What are you doing here, Penny? Don’t you have something illegal to partake in?” Penny flipped him the finger at his pointed words, but they weren’t enough to get her to leave. 

“Why so prickly, almighty Serpent King? Did your date with Princess not go well?” Jughead’s eyes flashed in anger as he spoke his next words. 

“It wasn’t a date, you better than anyone know that I don’t do dates.” She shrunk away from him minutely, having enough sense to at least look like she had been chastised. “And,” he continued, dropping his forehead into his hands, “a girl like that would never date a guy like me, or kiss him, apparently.”

He sensed Penny shift in her seat across from him. “You tried to kiss her?” He couldn’t understand why now it sounded like hurt in Penny’s voice. She had never cared about who he kissed, or who he slept with, for that matter. 

“No, I… God, you are the  _ last  _ person I want to talk to about this.” He heard her slide out of the seat across from him, peeking up from his hands to confirm before looking down at the table again. 

“Well, I’m not going to stick around where I’m not wanted,” Jughead sighed at the venom in her voice. He was sure his outburst was going to come back and bite him somehow, but for now, he was just grateful that she was leaving. 

“If I could offer some advice, though?” Jughead shrugged, knowing that whatever Penny was about to say was going to come with or without his blessing. “Just remember, Jug, she’s not one of us. She is as much the enemy as the Ghoulies are. And let’s say she lets you kiss her next time? Do you really think she’s going to accept your lifestyle? A gang leader who isn’t afraid to get down in the dirt, one who kidnaps and beats the ones that threaten him? Someone as ruthless and unfeeling as you?” Jughead let the words sink in, feeling the air tighten in his chest. 

Penny must have taken his silence as an agreeance to her statement, and so she continued on. “That’s what I thought. You need to be with someone who knows you, Jug. Every part of you. The good and the ugly.” He feels her hand on his shoulder briefly before she leaves. He knows it’s meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it only helps in making him feel worse. 

Penny was right. Betty wouldn’t understand him, or this lifestyle that he had chosen. She was the proverbial carrot that the universe dangled in front of him, close enough for him to grasp, but never actually have for himself. He could never be in a functional relationship with someone who wasn’t broken.

But if all that was true, and he really did believe it to be true, then why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

 

Long after Jughead headed back upstairs to his own room, a petite pink-haired woman remained seated in her booth that backed onto Jughead’s, pondering over all she had overheard whilst cleaning the table. Something needed to be done, that much was certain, but who to deal with first?

An image of a feisty blonde donned in pastels popped into her mind. That settled it. First thing tomorrow, she would get Betty alone and start fixing the mess that Jughead had created. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to comment or leave Kudos! I promise I don't bite and I love hearing from you guys! Follow me on tumblr at crescentmoonmadness for more craziness!


	8. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two uploads in one month?!?! Who am I? But, seriously, I hope you guys like this update! Give it a like or leave a comment if you enjoy yourselves. 
> 
> *Disclaimer* Descriptions of non-con scenes in this chapter.

Betty resented the sun as it shone into her room. She tried to avoid the thoughts spiraling around in her mind, deeming it entirely too early to be thinking as chaotically as she was. Before she had been taken by the Ghoulies, she had had strategies in place to combat her unwelcome thoughts. Her most effective one had been listing facts about situations that had taken place. It allowed her to separate what  _ actually  _ happened from what her mind convinced her had happened. Then she would take those facts and try her best to match them up with an assumed thought. 

As she got ready for the day, she fell into old habits, going over the events of the night before methodically. 

 

  1. __Jughead took you a bike ride. He said it was to get you fresh air. It was_ not _a date.__
  2. _He took you to a place that was special to him. You learned more about his childhood. This does not mean anything other than he was confiding in you, he deems you trustworthy._
  3. _He walked you back to your room. Not because he has some stupid crush on you. There is literally a gang that is looking to kill you. He was being cautious._
  4. _He leaned in to kiss you...no, that wasn’t right. He leaned in to… to…_



 

And that was where her mind left her, going over three facts that she could explain away, and stuttering over the fourth. Her mind was having a hard time coming up with a logical reason for him to lean towards her the way he had. 

Every time she recounted the memory, she remembered the panic she had felt. Before she knew what she was doing she had been pushing him away, muttering a quiet apology, and locking herself in her room. 

At the time she had been petrified, but now as she threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a close-fitting tank top, she felt a pang of regret in her stomach. Part of her was so relieved that she had retreated into her room, while the other part was chastising her for running away. 

It was that part that craved to know what Jughead tasted like, whether his lips would taste like the cigarettes that he occasionally smoked, or if there would be some other hidden taste there. 

_ Get a grip, Betty,  _ she told herself harshly. She was in no condition to be kissing anyone, she tried to convince herself. One close call with Jughead and she had been tossing and turning all night, her dreams starting off with mingled breathes and blue eyes, only to morph into menacing green ones. She had woken up panting in fear more than she cared to admit last night, another piece of proof that indicated she had made the right choice. 

Betty threw on a quick coat of mascara and headed downstairs, praying that the universe was looking out for her and that Jughead wouldn’t be sitting in his booth. She glanced over quickly when she reached the bottom of the landing, sighing in relief to see the aforementioned booth gloriously empty. 

She let a small smile grace her features and headed into the kitchen, pushing the double doors out of her way. Today Toni was going to finish showing her the ropes in the kitchen and she was looking forward to actually getting to do some work. 

“Hey Toni,” Betty called as she walked in. The Serpent in question was standing at the grill, her hair tied back into a perfectly sculpted messy bun. 

“Morning slacker,” Toni grinned, “I’m making breakfast, you hungry?” Betty smiled at the easy rapport she had with Toni. They had only known each other for a few days, but they had what Betty would call the beginnings of an easy friendship. 

“Sure, do we have any orders up?” Betty walked over to the grill, where the orders all got tacked up. So far there hadn’t been too many that morning, the only uncompleted order was for a basket of fries. Betty stepped over to the freezer and grabbed the bag of fries, taking two heaping handfuls and dropping them into the basket. After returning the bag to the freezer, she carefully dropped the fries into the burning oil, loving the way the oil sizzled against the cold potatoes. 

They worked in amicable silence, the radio softly playing in the background. Fangs wouldn’t be in until later, Toni had told Betty yesterday that while the Wyrm usually had enough traffic to keep her and Fangs busy in the evenings, the morning was a different story. Toni admitted to taking the morning shift every day, if only because it was usually the slower shift and wasn’t as chaotic. 

Betty pulled the fries from the oil and shook them off, pouring them into the metal bowl that sat to her left on the counter. She dumped salt on them, as Toni had instructed her to yesterday, and gave the bowl a couple quick tosses, ensuring that the salt coated the fries evenly. 

She turned around and grabbed a basket and a liner, quickly assembled the order, and walked it out into the bar. There was only one table that housed a customer, a tall, black-haired Serpent sitting quietly on his phone. She set the fries down smiled at him. 

“Thanks, Blondie,” Sweet Pea smiled.

“No problem,” Betty answered kindly. She was about to walk away before she blurted out, “Who has fries for breakfast?” She hadn’t meant for the words to come out, but now that they had, she was truly curious to hear the answer. 

“Awe, Blondie, are you kidding?” Betty quirked an eyebrow, conveying that she was waiting for him to impart his obvious wisdom.

“Fries are made out of potatoes, and it is proven that potatoes can be eaten at any time of the day. Case in point, hash browns, home fries, mashed, boiled, roasted. The possibilities are endless. So, therefore, fries can be eaten at any time of day.” 

Betty simply smiled at him, shaking her head before returning to the kitchen. As she walked through the doors, Toni was just finishing plating two egg sandwiches, carrying them to the small table at the back of the kitchen. 

She came to sit across the Toni, thanking her for the sandwich. 

“No worries,” Toni answered. They sat in silence for a moment before Toni cleared her throat and spoke again. 

“So, anything happen last night?” Betty did her best to ignore the lilt in Toni’s voice and tried to keep her own voice even. 

“Nope, we went for a ride and came back home. He walked me to my door and I went to bed. Totally uneventful.” Betty took another bite of her sandwich, feeling the lies she had spouted threaten to choke her. 

“Bullshit.” Betty did nearly choke this time, coughing around the bread and egg in her mouth. She took a moment to swallow her food and then tried again. 

“Excuse me?” Again, she tried her best to appear casual. 

“I said, bullshit. I know Jones tried to kiss you.” Toni quirked an eyebrow at Betty, but the blonde just ducked her head, not wanting to meet the gaze of the petite woman. 

“How do you know that?” Betty muttered. Toni shrugged a shoulder. 

“Doesn’t matter how I found out, you just confirmed that I was right. So,” she paused, widening her eyes for emphasis, “tell me what happened.” 

Betty thought about holding out, maybe trying to deny it again, but in reality, she really wanted to talk to someone about it. She was going to drive herself crazy if she kept running through the scenario herself. 

Betty told Toni about the bike ride and how nice it had been to just talk to Jughead. Then she told her about Jughead walking her back to her room. She wanted to stop when it came time to talk about the almost kiss, but she plowed on, knowing if she let herself stop then she wouldn’t be able to work up the courage to talk about it again. She finished her story in a rush, words spilling out her mouth at an alarming rate. When she was done she looked up at Toni, worrying that the woman opposite of her would have a look conveying judgment in her eyes. Instead, all Betty encountered was a look of exasperation.

“God, that idiot,” Toni grumbled. Betty looked up fully, sitting back in her seat once again. 

“Sorry, what?” She was confused by Toni’s reaction, she had not been expecting the exasperation that hinted in Toni’s tone. 

“Nothing,” Toni assured, “so, why did you run away?” Betty was caught off-guard by the quick change in questioning.

“I...I don’t know,” she finished lamely, “I guess he just scares me. And not in a traditional sense. I just get the feeling that if I would have let him kiss me then it would have made things so complicated, more complicated than they already are, anyway.” Toni nodded her head, seeming to accept Betty’s answer. 

“Do you like him?” The look on Toni’s face seemed to indicate that she already knew what Betty was going to say, but she answered the pink-haired woman regardless. 

“I think so,” she admitted quietly, “I mean, I didn’t, at first. But he’s different from what I thought. He’s kind, and smart, and funny. He’s nothing like how I first imagined him. But he’s also the leader of a notorious gang, and people say horrible things about him, about how cruel he is, and how ruthless he can be. Those claims must be warranted on some level, and...” Betty realized she was rambling and stopped herself, blushing pink. 

“So…” Toni drawled. Betty sighed deeply. 

“So I guess what I’m wondering is...how can he be kind and cruel, funny and ruthless? Which is the truth and which is the lie?” She watched intently as Toni absorbed her words, almost hoping that the other woman would have a simple answer to a loaded question. 

“I think, like in most cases,” Toni began, “you’ll find that people are capable of being more than one thing.” Betty waited for her to continue, however, Toni just sat quietly and resumed eating. Betty took a moment for the words to sink in. Was it possible for someone to be two entirely different people? If you had asked her a month ago she would have wholeheartedly replied to the negative, but now she wasn’t so sure. 

“There’s a party tonight,” Toni said nonchalantly, “down at an old warehouse. It should be pretty fun. A little dancing, a little drinking.” Betty simply nodded, her mind still held captive by her own thoughts. She heard a distinct sigh from across the table and looked up to find a disgruntled Toni. 

“I’m saying you should come with, dummy,” Betty couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping. Despite the fact that she had only known Toni for a few days, it felt like they had been friends for years. 

“I don’t know about a party,” Betty replied hastily, she paused for a moment, hating herself for needing to ask, “Will Jughead be there?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted Toni to answer in the positive or negative, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering. 

Toni waved a hand in the air, “Don’t worry about him. It’ll be fun. I’ll help you get ready, maybe lend you some clothes, and then you can meet my girlfriend.” Betty looked down at her simply tank top and jeans.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” 

Toni gave her a once over before drawling, “Everything. Don’t worry, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Joaquin will be there. I might even be able to convince Joaquin to bring that redhead of yours.”

Betty lit up with excitement, “Archie can come?” She hadn’t seen him in days, and she hated being away from him knowing that he was so close. With that simple carrot dangled above her, Betty made her choice. 

“I’ll come,” she answered. 

Toni smiled from ear to ear, it was the first time Betty saw true joy, and not mirth masked under sarcasm, grace the young woman’s face. “Perfect, this is going to be amazing.” 

* * *

Across the Southside there sat an old building, the concrete foundation covered in mildew and mold. The street lights were shutting off in the early morning light, the sun just starting to peek between the buildings that surrounded the old bar.

It had once been the busiest place in town, before there was a Southside and Northside, back when the town had been founded. There had been drinks and girls and singers, and the place was alive with music and life every night. 

Nowadays the old building was home to a different kind of crowd. Gone were the hard-working patrons of Riverdale, replaced by downtrodden men and women. Clothed in leather, a bone-chilling ghoulish emblem sitting across their backs, this was their home now. The Ghoulies had taken over the bar a few months after Malachai had taken over the gang. Although no one knew how he had secured the funds to buy the bar, most didn’t question their new leader. He was the embodiment of the devil, some would say. Lacking empathy and mercy, he had an ability to single-mindedly focus on a goal until it was achieved. And his goal since he had taken control? The ruination of the Serpents. It filled his every waking thought, motivated his every action, even controlled his dreams. 

Penny knew all this as she approached the bar, the neon sign  _ Cemetery  _ flashing in the sky. She knew that Malachai was feared and revered by the Ghoulies, they treated him like he was their savior. But she knew him for what he truly was, unhinged. He was a madman that would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. She took a deep breath and walked out the dilapidated steps, pushing the door to the bar open slowly. 

She sees him before he sees her, sitting at the bar with a glass of amber liquor in his hand. He looked confident and in charge, his presence larger than life. Penny tried to ignore the thoughts running rampant in her mind, but they overpower her in every way. 

Flashbacks to the basement that lay below the bar take over her senses. The smell of mold was stronger down there, thick enough to choke on. The room she had been locked in was dark and damp, water dripping off the ceiling onto the concrete floor.

And then there had been Malachai. He had visited her every day, tormenting her, antagonizing her, then starving her until she caved. Until she finally agreed to his deal. His words still rung in her ears as if they were being spoken to her directly.

_ “Here’s the deal, Snake. I’ll let you go, but you’ll owe me.” _

_ “No way, Malachai. I’d rather die.”  _

_ “You might, if you don’t reconsider.” _

Days had passed, the abuse got worse. It had been after one particularly horrific waterboarding that Penny had finally cracked. 

_ “What’s the deal?” _

_ “What’s that little Snake? Changing your mind?”  _

_ “The deal, Malachai.” _

_ “It’s really simple. I’ll let you go, but you work for me now. Don’t worry, you’ll still be a Serpent. But your new job will be delivering my merchandise.”  _

Penny had refused at first, knowing that Malachai’s merchandise was along the lines of drugs and illegal arms dealing, but as she watched herself fade away to nothing she became desperate. 

_ “I’ll take the deal. Now let me go.” _

_ “Not so fast. We can’t just let you walk out of here. Call Jones, tell him to come save you. He won’t be able to resist. And if you speak a word of our deal to him, I can promise you won’t live to see the day after.” _

_ “Fine, give me the phone.” _

_ “Sure thing, but first, we had to make your distress a little more...believable.” _

Penny had been beaten when she was inducted into the Serpents, everyone ran the gauntlet back then, but it was nothing compared to what Malachai did to her after that. She sat in her chair, broken and bloodied, a cell phone left in her hand. All she had to do was call for help. 

_ “Jug, I need you.” _

_ “Penny? Where are you?” _

_ “Please Jug, I think they’re going to kill me.” _

He had come, of course. He had taken her out of the bar’s basement and back to safety, never once suspecting that her rescue had been orchestrated. Then, to thank Jughead for saving her life, she had roped him into working with her, and therefore working for Malachai. It was something that he would never forgive her for if he found out, but he wasn’t going to find out. She was going to end this before it went any further. By any means necessary. 

 

She walked up to Malachai, taking a seat beside him. If he was surprised by her showing up, he didn’t show it. 

“Little Snake, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was slick like oil, she had to stop herself from recoiling at the sound. 

“I have information,” she said quietly, not wanting to waste time. She didn’t want to spend even one extra second in the bar if she could avoid it. 

She hated the way he appraised her, his eyes sliding over her body. “Well, do share.” She cleared her throat, trying to hide her intentions deep within herself. 

“There’s a party tonight, out at the old Blossom warehouse,” Penny stated simply, hoping that Malachai would do what he would with that information. 

He swirled the liquor in his glass, regarding it carefully. “And I care….because?” Penny was banking on Malachai needing more instruction. Her hope that he would just show up had been just that, a simple hope. But she was ready with a use for her information. 

“Jones will be there, minimal backup. Most of the Serpents won’t be going, only his closest crew as I understand it. It’s a perfect opening.” She held her breath, hoping that Malachai bought her act. She needed him to show up to the warehouse, tonight was the first time in months that an opportunity so perfect had arisen. 

“A perfect opening to…” Malachai let the sentence hang. She scowled at him. He knew what she was hinting at, what she was telling him, he just wanted her to say it out loud. 

“To kill him,” Penny finally muttered, feeling her heart clench at the words.  _ Just get through the next few minutes, _ she told herself. 

Malachai regarded her for a moment, looking for cracks in her charade, but he wouldn’t find any. She was made of stone, there were no flaws in her mask. He nodded finally, putting his glass down on the bar in front of him. 

“Thanks, Little Snake,” Penny rose from her seat, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

“Just don’t mess it up, you won’t get another chance like this,” she left quickly, not bothering to look back at the man that had caused her so much pain. She did her best to stop herself from sprinting down the steps. Her bike was parked only a block away, just in case any Serpents drove by, she didn’t want anyone to know where she had been. 

She knew that Jughead could do it, but some part of her was screaming that she had made the wrong decision, that something was going to go wrong tonight. She quieted that part of herself, shoving the small voice down deeper. No one had managed to take Jones down, and Malachai would become part of a long list of those who had tried and failed.

She walked quickly down the block, throwing on her helmet and starting her bike. She started her ride back to the Wyrm, with only one thought running through her mind. 

_ Now all Jones has to do is kill him. He  _ has  _ to kill him.  _

* * *

The day passed in a blur of food orders and dirty dishes. Finally, it was time to start getting ready for the party, and Betty was reluctant to admit that she was excited. She hadn’t been to a party in ages, since before her mom.

She wasn’t even back in her room for five minutes before Toni barged in, arms filled with clothes and shoes. Betty watched wordlessly as she dumped the items on Betty’s bed, letting out a little sigh. 

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Betty’s eyebrows shot up, wondering just how much  _ work  _ she needed. 

“Is what I have not good enough for a Southside party?” She cringed at her words, not having intended them to come out so harshly. 

“It’s not about good enough, it’s about blending in. And if you roll up to a Southside party in pastels and ballet flats, well, let’s just say it might not turn out good. People are a little,” Toni paused, weighing her words, “sensitive when it comes to Northsiders.” 

Betty simply nodded, walking over to the pile of clothes and looking through them. Toni was a good four inches shorter than Betty, meaning most of her clothes would be too small. She voiced this opinion while Toni set out some makeup on the vanity. 

“Don’t worry, the shorter the better. We need to show off those legs, they go on for miles,” Toni answered simply. “Alright, come sit down.” Toni gestured for Betty to sit at the chair in front of the vanity. Betty walked over and sat slowly, not sure how she felt about letting Toni have full access to getting her ready. It seemed as though the petite woman had already gotten ready herself. Her makeup was darker than usual, her hair sitting in messy dutch braids that fell down her back. She was dressed in a simple black bralet and fishnet top, black skinny jeans painted onto her thighs. 

Betty was sure she would never be able to emulate that kind of effortless sexiness. It seemed to come so naturally to Toni. She let out a small sigh as Toni raised a makeup brush to lightly dust some product across her skin. 

“So,” Betty began, “earlier you mentioned a girlfriend?” Toni hummed in response, focusing intently on her work.

“How long have you guys been together?” Betty questioned. 

“Close your eyes,” Betty complied, shutting them quickly while waiting for Toni to respond. “We’ve been together for about a year now, I met her at a Ghoulie race and saw her stirring up chaos on the sidelines, antagonizing the men. I went over to lend a hand and she told me that real ladies know how to finish their own fights.” Toni chuckled at the memory and Betty smiled at the thought of the feisty woman. “I asked her out that night and we’ve been together ever since. You can open your eyes now.” Betty did as she was told, sneaking a quick glance in the mirror. Her face was glowing, eyes covered in dark makeup that seemed to make her eyes looker even greener, if that was even possible. It was so different, and yet, she couldn’t say that she hated it. 

“Hey, Toni,” Betty looked at the Serpent, a question resting on the tip of her tongue.

“Yeah?” Toni was rifling through the clothes on the bed, but Betty decided to voice her question before she lost her nerve. 

“Did you and Jughead ever date?” The words came out rushed, relief washing over her momentarily. Toni turned and stared at Betty, the relief that she had felt a moment ago vanishing. 

Toni burst out laughing, the loud noise causing Betty to jump slightly.

“Jones? And me?” Toni had to pause to catch her breathe, her laughter stealing the air from her lungs. “God,  _ never.  _ He has been my best friend since we were kids. He is, for all intents and purposes, the brother I never had.” Betty tried to control the smile that was itching to break across her face, but was unsuccessful, feeling her lips curve up. 

“Don’t worry about Jones, Betty. That boy is about as obtuse as they come, but he always figures things out in the end.” 

Betty blushed pink, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered.

“Sure you don’t. Onto bigger and better things. What do we think of this outfit?” Toni held up a crop top and skirt that were barely there, making Betty’s eyes widen comically. 

“For me?” Betty shook her head emphatically as Toni nodded hers. 

“For you, Northside. Now don’t be a little bitch, get that tiny ass into this skirt.”

* * *

Betty looked around at the people filtering into the warehouse, the music thumping loudly into the night air. There were already cups littering the ground outside the building, crunching underneath their feet as they made their way to the large bay door that was open. Betty tried to take it all in as they walked through the giant door. The building was huge, easily big enough to hold five hundred people. There was a DJ booth on the furthest wall, large speakers set up on both sides of the booth, with more speakers spread out along the walls. It was dark, but there were strobe lights flashing, make everyone on the dance floor look like they were dancing in slow motion. 

“Pretty great, huh?” Betty brought her focus back to the woman standing beside her. She simply nodded in response, not wanting to have to shout over the loud music. “Come on, I think I saw Sweet Pea by the bar.” Betty followed Toni to the crowd, grabbing the hand that the shorter woman thrust out towards her.

They made their way slowly through the throngs of people like that, hand in hand, until they reached the bar. Betty saw Sweet Pea first, a red cup in his hand, his back turned to them. Betty nudged Toni and pointed in the taller Serpents direction. Sweet Pea was arguing with a small woman with flaming red hair. Betty smiled at Sweet Pea, seeing him getting more worked up at something the redhead said. She watched at Toni walked up to the woman, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging gently, giving Sweet Pea the finger before walking back to Betty. 

“Betty! This is my girlfriend, Cheryl.” Betty shook the woman’s hand, her mind whirring at the familiarity of the name. Then it hit her, flaming red hair, didn’t the Blossoms have a daughter named Cheryl? 

“Cheryl Blossom?” Betty ventured a guess. She was rewarded with a knowing smirk and nod of the head. 

“And you must be Betty Cooper, my Toni has told me all about you.” Betty flinched at the insinuation that laced Cheryl’s voice. “Don’t worry, no Ghoulies would be stupid enough to show their faces here tonight. You’re safe here.” Betty sent a quizzical look to Toni, not quite understanding where Cheryl’s statement had come from. 

“Cheryl’s dad used to own this warehouse, she inherited all Blossom assets when her dad died. The Ghoulies know that Cheryl is with me, so needless to say they know they aren’t welcome at Cheryl’s parties.” 

Betty must have had a look of astonishment on her face because both Toni and Cheryl laughed. “I’m sorry,” Betty started, “you  _ own _ this warehouse? And put on this entire party?” Betty took a second look around the building, wondering how much disposable income someone had to have to throw a party big enough to fill an entire  _ warehouse.  _

“Just another Saturday night, darling. Get a drink, go dance. Enjoy yourself, Betty. I daresay you’ve earned it.” Betty nodded absently as Cheryl whispered something to Toni, the latter nodding her head in agreeance to whatever the redhead had said, then Cheryl slinked away into the crowd. 

“Let’s go find the guys! I want a drink and Sweet Pea owes me one.” They headed back over to the boys, not realizing how far the crowd had carried them away from the rest of the Serpents. Betty once again saw Sweet Pea first, his height was impossible to miss. As they got closer she saw Fangs and Joaquin. She hadn’t seen Joaquin since the night she came to the Wyrm, but she knew Archie was staying with him. She imagined her best friend sitting in a trailer somewhere on the Southside by himself, instantly feeling guilty that she was out having fun. 

Betty approached the leather-clad men, seeing a flash of red on the other side of Sweet Pea. She screamed as someone grabbed her from behind, her thoughts instantly conjuring up stringy black hair and vivid green eyes, but when she turned around she was greeted with warm, brown eyes and a smile that she had grown up with. 

“Archie!” She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. His arms came to surround her as well, his warmth seeping into her. 

“Betty,” his voice was loud to be heard over the music, “God, you are a sight for sore eyes.” She laughed out loud at his words, so giddy that he was actually standing right in front of her that she was unable to respond. “You look...different.” 

Betty tilted her head, not knowing what he meant by the statement. He simply gestured to her clothes and she gasped softly and laughed. The black mini-skirt, thigh high boots, and ripped black tank top were definitely not her normal style, along with the thick coating of eyeshadow and eyeliner that Toni had adorned her face with. 

“Ah… Toni was in charge of outfits tonight,” she said sheepishly, suddenly self-conscious of her bold clothing choices. 

Archie’s hand came to rest reassuringly on her arm, “It looks good, Betty. I’m just so happy to get to see you.” 

She released him, knowing that her face was still glowing with happiness. “How are you here?” Archie smirked at her question, jerking his head in Joaquin and Toni’s direction.

“The spitfire with the pink hair convinced my babysitter to let me come out to see you.” Betty smiled, catching Toni’s eye and mouthing a quick  _ thank you _ to her. Toni simply smiled and winked at her, resuming her conversation with the boys. 

“Betty,” she brought her attention back to Archie at the mention of her name, “I want you to meet someone.” Betty nodded, wondering who it could be that Archie knew at this party that she wouldn’t know. They had all the same friends. 

She watched as Archie floated a few feet away, tapping a small, raven-haired woman on the shoulder. She turned and beamed at him, a smile that seemed to light up the night. Betty was struck by how effortlessly beautiful the girl was, it was the kind of beauty that you could only admire. 

“Veronica, this is Betty. Betty, Veronica.” Betty lightly grabbed the hand that was extended to her, smiling at the woman. 

“It’s so nice to meet you! Archiekins has told me all about your shared childhoods.” The woman regarded her warmly, not an ounce of jealousy in her voice, a surprising change for Betty. She was used to Archie’s many partners hating her, on the simple principle that she was his friend and female. 

Betty smiled warmly, “It’s really great to meet you too.” Betty couldn’t help but notice Archie’s expression. He was all but glowing and Betty knew that her opinion of Veronica would be important to him. She was about to ask Veronica where she grew up when she saw a glimpse of a grey beanie in the shape of a crown. It was only about three people away, and she would be willing to bet everything she owned on who it belonged to. She had only ever known one person to unabashedly wear such a unique hat. 

“I’m sorry, I would love to stay and chat but I need to go check something out with Jughead.” She looked to Archie, hoping he would understand, and was happy to see him give her a small nod and a smile. She mouthed a quick thank you before moving away from them and into the crowd, hearing Veronica state loudly, “Who is Jug Head?” Betty smirked to herself at the pronunciation of the man’s name, knowing how the raven-haired woman felt. Betty remembered only a few short days ago when she had learned the Serpent leaders name, wondering why someone would choose to go by such an absurd nickname.

She pushed through the crowd, keeping her eye on his beanie that towered over the heads surrounding him. When he comes into view he almost takes her breath away. He is still wearing his Serpents jacket, she thinks it must be permanently adhered to him at this point. It’s what he is wearing underneath that stuns her. Until this moment, Betty had only seen Jughead in loose-fitting t-shirts and jeans. Tonight he is wearing a grey henley, stretched tightly across his chest, black jeans that taper down to a nice bootcut, and suspenders that hang idly at his side. The outfit should look disjointed and out of place, but on him, it looks natural. 

She can’t help the smile from spreading across her face when she sees him, a completely involuntary reaction. Her smile begins to fall, however, when she recounts last nights events, immediately feeling horrible once again for the way she acted. 

In her head, she knows she made the right decision not to kiss him. She already has so much going on in her life, without adding all the damage that  _ he  _ had done. Adding an ill-timed kiss to the mix would just make everything worse, she was sure of it. 

In her heart, on the other hand, she wasn’t as sure. Whenever she thought about Jughead she felt warm all over. Nevermind that he was a gang leader, he made her feel safe, and lately safe was all she wanted.

She walked up to him slowly, seeing that he was talking to a young man, both men gesturing wildly and neither looking impressed. When Jughead saw her he waved her over, slapping the younger man on the shoulder and sending him away. She tried to keep the blush from creeping onto her face, but knew was probably wasn’t succeeding. 

“Hey,” she shouted over the music, feeling all of a sudden out of place. He smiled at her, that twinkle that seemed to only come out on occasion was back in his eyes. 

“Hey,” he replied. He took a deep breath and continued, “Listen, Betty, I wanted to apologize...you know, for last night.” Betty’s heart caught at his words, and before she could stop herself she was gripping his forearm. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” she rushed out, “I’m sorry for freaking out like that.” Betty hoped that he would accept her apology. She had felt so guilty all day for being so erratic and chaotic. She could have just turned him down gently, but instead, she had pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. She was still mentally berated herself when she looked up at him, a look of disbelief clouding his face. 

“What?” She asks it quietly, knowing that he would barely be able to hear her over the music. 

“I just can’t believe that you think you have anything to apologize for,” Betty’s stomach clenched at the tone in his voice, the disappointment evident.

“I just…” But he cut her off before she could explain herself.

“Betty,” he paused for a moment, dragging a hand down his face, “I tried to kiss you, and its…” here his voice out momentarily, like he was choking on whatever he was trying to say before continuing, “it’s ok if that’s not what you want, but you have  _ nothing  _ to apologize for. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to run away from me. That is not what I wanted at all.” Betty smiled at his impassioned words. This man surprised her more every day. He wasn’t just the leader of the Serpents, he was a friend and a son, a kind soul and shoulder to cry on for those who needed it. He was multifaceted and Betty felt so stupid for not seeing it sooner. She looked up at him, her smile beaming. 

“Do you want to dance?” She laughed at the look of confusion on Jughead’s face, and before she could rethink it, she grabbed his hand and dragged him through the crows of people until they reached the middle of the dance floor. She noticed the look of discomfort on his face and stifled a giggle in the back of her throat. 

“What, you don’t dance?” Jughead’s expression told her everything she needed to know, but he answered her anyway.

“No,” he said dryly, glancing around at the people surrounding them, “too many people, and the lack of a dancer’s body and I’m horribly uncoordinated.” This time Betty did laugh loudly, throwing her head back. 

“Well I’ll teach you, but it’ll cost you,” Jughead raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Your price?” Betty smirked again, letting the bass thumping through her body empower her. 

“You have to teach me how to drive the bike.” Now it was Jughead’s turn to laugh. Betty was mesmerized by the sound, never hearing him laugh so carefreely before. 

“You have a deal, Cooper.” Betty flashed another smile, feeling butterflies beating wildly around in her stomach. She had never done anything so forward with a man before, but she was so tired of carefully calculating everything all the time. She wanted to have  _ fun,  _ and she wanted to have it with Jughead.

She crooked a finger at him until they were chest to chest, breath mingling between them. “Follow my lead,” she said to him, her words only loud enough for him to hear. She quickly turned around, reaching behind her to grab his hands. 

She placed them gently on her hips and started swaying her hips to the beat, feeling him immediately follow her pace. She left his hands where they were, bringing one of her hands up to his neck while keeping the other on his hand. She flicked her hips to the beat of the bass, the smoke and sweat of hundreds of bodies dancing filling her with happiness. 

They danced like that for a few minutes, her fingers tickling up and down his neck, before she wanted more. Withdrawing her hand from his neck, she quickly turned towards him, facing him. 

His eyes were blown wide, the blue surrounding his pupil’s almost non-existent. She sucked in a breath, not realizing how seeing him like this would affect her. Her hands wandered up to his neck, entangling themselves together amongst the curling hair there. It was soft and silky, surprising her. She hadn’t been expecting to like dancing with him as much as she was, but now that they were doing so, she never wanted to stop.

The bass thumped louder as the song changed, the beat taking an upswing, causing her hips to move faster. She couldn’t help the smile from creeping across her face when his arms wound around her lower back. 

“I thought you said you weren’t good at dancing?” She whispered in his ear, feeling him shiver under her hands. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she was causing such a reaction in him. She felt in control for the first time since she had escaped the Ghoulies. 

“I had a good teacher,” he answered simply, dropping his head to her shoulder. Her body hummed as his breath floated along her exposed skin. Betty knew that she was nowhere near ready to take things further, but she wanted to. She wanted to know what his lips tasted like, what his hands would feel like ghosting across her skin. It felt so right with him, more right than it had with anyone else she had ever been with, like he was an extension of herself. 

She knew that was crazy, though. She had known him for less than a week. 

But, was it really that crazy, she asked herself. She knew things about his past that he hadn’t told anyone else, and she felt comfortable sharing her past with him in turn. She didn’t do that with just anyone, in fact, she was certain the only person who knew about her mother’s oppressive parenting was Archie, and not because she had told, but because he had witnessed it. She was lost deep in thought, relishing the feeling of Jughead’s hands on her back, his breath on her neck when everything started to crumble.

Betty heard his voice before she saw him, her body immediately shrinking in on itself.

“Jones! Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Jughead wheeled around, blocking Betty’s line of vision. His answer was swift and razor sharp. 

“Really, you didn’t expect to see me at a Serpent party that you weren’t invited to? I can’t imagine why Malachai.” Jughead’s back coiled and uncoiled, the tension evident in his stance. 

“Oh, Jonesy, I miss your smart mouth. Of course, I had to come see you, who else would I devote my time to on a lonely Saturday night?” His voice was still as slippery as it had been the day she escaped, the sound of it making her stomach turn over on itself several times. Her mind was clouding with panic when she heard Jughead speak again.

“Let’s try again,” his voice growled deeply, menacing in a way that Betty had never heard before, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Malachai stepped towards them, obviously not seeing Betty yet. She hated herself for cowering behind Jughead, her head pressed into his back, her fingers clutching the leather there. 

“A little birdie told me where you’d be tonight, I figured I’d come settle the debt you owe me,” Jughead scoffed at the other man’s words. Through her panic, Betty wondered what Jughead could possibly owe that monster. 

“I paid that debt a long time ago, and you know it, Malachai. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” There was a crowd gathering them at this point, and as Betty watched their expressions there was one thing she could discern for sure. These people looked up to Jughead. They looked on him with admiration, while the gazes directed in Malachai’s direction were filled with disdain. Her attention was brought back to the two men when Malachai spoke again. 

“You always see right through me, Jonesy. I want to end this, once and for all. You versus me, one survivor.” Betty's bones chilled at his words. He wanted to  _ kill _ Jughead. Her fingers unwittingly clutched deeper into his leather, fear for the man in front of her coursing through her veins. 

Jughead, however, simply laughed. “The last time you fought me, you came out a little worse for the wear. Are you sure you want to dance this dance again, Ghoulie?” So they had a history of violence between them, Betty thought. This wasn’t the first time that Malachai had tried something like this. She wasn’t really surprised, the man was vicious and twisted. 

Lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t aware of the Ghoulie that had snuck up behind her until she was being ripped away from Jughead, held against the chest of someone much larger than her. She fought against the hands, a shriek ripping from her throat, as Jughead whirled around to look at her, panic etched into every line of his face. 

She watched in horror as Malachai leaped towards Jughead, a knife suddenly appearing in his hands. “Jug!” Her voice was raw with terror, but before Malachai could reach Jughead, a hulking mass stepped between them, shoving Malachai to the ground with enough force to knock the breath out of him. She wrenched against the hands holding her, but they just tightened. She recognized the man who had stepped in as Sweet Pea, his body towering over Malachai, his face clouded in fury. 

“Everyone, calm down!” Jughead shouted, holding his hands up. Betty wondered briefly who he was talking to, but soon saw who he was addressing. Toni, Fangs, Joaquin, and Archie were now surrounding them, along with a small group of Ghoulies. Everyone looked like they were one sudden movement from an all-out brawl, tension thick in the air. 

Malachai brought himself to standing again, rage barely masked on his face. It was then that Betty made eye contact with him and saw the recognition dawn on his face. 

“Well, well, well,” He tried to walk towards her but was blocked by Jughead. It didn’t stop him from continuing to talk. “If it isn’t the girl that got away. We’ve missed you down at the Cemetery. How’s your leg?” His last words were asked casually, but Jughead took a swing at him, which Malachai barely ducked away from in time. His cackling laugh echoed in the air, Betty just realizing now that the music was no longer playing. It was dead silent, people having backed up to give the two rival gangs space, but still watching the events unfold. 

“Don’t fucking talk to her,” Jughead growled, stalking towards Malachai.

“Jonesy, if I didn’t know better I’d say you cared about her,” he paused, grinning widely at Jughead, “I didn’t know you had a thing for damaged goods.” Betty felt her stomach drop, surely Malachai wouldn’t admit what he had done to her, in front of all these people?

“Shut your mouth,” Jughead warned again.

“I never imagined that Jughead Jones,  _ Serpent King _ , would want  _ my _ sloppy seconds,” Malachai barely got the words out before Jughead lunged at him, throwing his entire weight into the shorter man. Betty got tossed aside, the thug keeping her restrained no longer deeming her as important as defending Malachai.

She felt another set of hands grab her and she tried to rip her arm away but her attacker simply picked her up around the middle and started hauling her towards the doors. People were all streaming to the exit now, and when Betty looked back at where Jughead had been there was a cacophony of shouting and swearing, Ghoulie jackets and Serpent jackets tussling. 

She kept trying to break free, wanting, no,  _ needing,  _ to get back to Jughead. Malachai would kill him if he got the chance, and even though she should have been more concerned with her own safety, she felt a compulsion to protect the Serpent that she had come to know. 

“Jughead,” the person who was carrying her shouted, “get her out of here!” Betty chanced a look up, seeing that this whole time she had been fighting against Archie. He set her down gently, grabbing her face in his hands. 

“Are you alright?” Betty nodded deftly. Then a gunshot sounded, ringing through the night air, causing her to duck to the ground, Archie’s body coming to cover hers. 

“Where’s Veronica?” Betty asked, her voice imbibed with panic. She had only just met the girl, but she needed to know that everyone who had been with them tonight was safe. 

“I took her out the moment Malachai showed up and send her home in her town car. She’s fine, Betty. You need to go with Jughead before things get too out of control here.” Betty looked over her shoulder to where Archie was glancing. Jughead was rolling the bike up to them, helmet dangling from the handlebars. She looked back to Archie, hoping he would say he was leaving too.

“What about you?” Her heart fell when he smiled at her, the same boyish smile that he had worn all this, but something was missing from it. The pure innocence that he had once had was gone, replaced by conviction. 

“I’m going to go get Joaquin, then I’ll leave.” She wanted to argue with him more, but he simply bent down and gave her a quick hug, backing away from her with the same devilish smile. 

“Take care of her, Jug. Get her home in one piece.” She looked over her shoulder to see Jughead standing just behind her, a look of rage still present on his features. 

“Tell Joaquin to call me when you get back to his place,” was all Jughead said in reply. 

Betty watched as her best friend ran back into the building, her stomach clenching painfully. A hand on her arm made her jump, her nerves strung tight as violin strings. 

“Let’s go, Betts.” 

* * *

They whip through the streets of Southside, streetlights blurring past them. He knows they are going too fast, but he needs to get her back to the bar. Back to safety. She wasn’t supposed to be there tonight. She wasn’t supposed to leave the bar.

Jughead had a pretty good idea of who had brought Betty to the party, but that was a problem for tomorrow. He could feel her fingers gripping his shirt tightly. 

He had given her his helmet and jacket before they left the warehouse, not wanting her to be vulnerable. His heart had done an awful flipflop when he had seen her in his leather jacket, but he shoved the feeling down. He didn’t have time to feel anything. He willed his heart to harden, begged it to ice over. He needed to be strong, and right now he felt like falling apart. 

It wasn’t until there were a mile away from the Wyrm that he noticed Betty was close to passing out. He felt the bike wobble underneath him and chanced a glance back at her. She looked pale as a ghost through the visor of his helmet, her eyes staring straight ahead. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, then loudly, “Hold on! We’re almost to the Wyrm.” He felt her fingers tighten on him marginally and he gripped the accelerator tightly, pushing the bike as fast as he could to get there. 

He screeched into the parking lot, throwing down the kickstand and jumping off quickly. He turned to offer Betty his hand, but she was already sliding off the bike on the other side, her knees hitting the gravel harshly. He rounded the bike as she ripped on his helmet, and he winced internally as she tossed it to the ground, then immediately berated himself for it. It was a fucking helmet, he could buy a new one. 

He dropped to his knees beside her as she began to heave, vomit coating the rocks beneath her. He paused for a moment. This was so outside of his realm of comfort. He could handle blood and gunshot wounds, but whatever Betty was going through wasn’t anything he had seen before. 

He placed a hand gingerly on her back, only to have her duck away from him. His face fell into a grimace, hating the feeling of being useless. He had no clue what to do for her. He was wracking his brain for something helpful when he saw blood on the rocks around them. Before thinking he grabbed Betty and hauled her to a sitting position, seeing her eyes frantically looking around, so different from the vacant stare that been there only a few minutes ago. He started to check her face, arms, legs. There was no cuts, no open wounds. Where was the blood coming from? She must have realized what he was looking for, because she raised her hands to him, palms forward, and uncurled her fingers. 

He tried to hold in the gasp that wanted to leave his lungs. Her hands were a bloodied mess, four little crescent moons dug into the soft skin there. His heart tightened in his chest, the air not willing to go in or out. 

He managed to croak out a weak, “Let’s go inside,” to which Betty nodded. He was hesitant to touch her again, remembering how she had shuddered again from his hand on her back. He stayed close to her though, ready to catch her, should her wobbling legs fail her. They made it inside the door and Jughead turned quickly to lock it behind them. 

He wheeled around to look at the few patrons that were sitting in the booths and tried to muster a sense of leadership that he didn’t feel. 

“Everyone out. Use the back door. Last one out locks it. Meeting tomorrow.” He barked out the orders and was happy to see that no one questioned him. Maybe it was the wild look in his eyes, or the blood-covered woman beside him, but something was preventing the other Serpents from asking questions. 

Jughead waited until they had all filed out, listening carefully for the click of the door closing behind the last person, before he addressed Betty again. 

“Betts,” he watched as she cowered away from him, hating that he didn’t know what was wrong, “Please, Betts. Tell me what I can do.” 

“There’s nothing you can do!” Jughead took a step back at the volume of her voice, shrill and unnatural. “Don’t you get that? There’s nothing anyone can do to fix this. I am so…” Her voice cut off with emotion and he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. 

“I am so broken,” she finally whispered, clutching her arms around her middle, as if she were physically trying to hold herself together. Jughead stood there, watching her fall apart, never having felt so useless in his life, so utterly helpless. A small part of him wanted to walk away, she didn’t want him there, that much was obvious. But the much larger part of him was telling him to stay out, to weather the storm, because when whatever was going on with Betty was over, he knew she would need someone, and he was her only option right now. They stood in silence save for the sobs that wracked her body, her whole being convulsing with each one. 

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, “God, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry, please just…” He took two quick steps to her when he saw her legs start to give away. She fell back against the door and continued to babble a slew of  _ I’m sorry _ ’s and  _ I didn’t mean it _ ’s. Jughead simply stood there, ready to catch her. 

“Betts,” she talked over him, still apologizing fervently almost like she couldn’t stop, “Betts,” he said more firmly, finally catching her attention. She stopped talking and looked up at him, her eyes rimmed in red.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered just loud enough so that only she could hear him, “I’ll do anything you ask, please just... tell me what I can do.” They looked in each other’s eyes for a moment and the vacantness he saw there terrified him. 

“I want to go to my room,” she answered quietly. He nodded at her request and moved to stand beside her. She took one step, wavered, and without thinking he snaked his arm around her back, pulling her close to his side to support most of her weight. 

“Is this ok?” She nodded and tried to take another step, her legs still just as weak. “Do you trust me?” It was a simple question, but he knew it meant a lot more than simple trust. He knew that trust was everything, and her trust in humanity had been so extraordinarily broken. And yet, she nodded again. He tried not to read into it, tried to take the gesture for what it was. She needed help and he was the only one around, it’s not like she had a lot of other choices. 

He bent down slightly and placed a hand under her knees, bringing her up to rest against his chest. His mind immediately went back to the day in the woods when he had found her, passed out from blood loss and delirious. 

He carried her up the staircase and shouldered open her bedroom door. There wasn’t much lying around for personal effects. Jughead walked over to the bed and carefully set her down on the edge, not wanting to jostle her in her already fragile state. He stood for a moment in front of her, trying to decide what he should do next. Surely if she needed him to stay she would have said so by now, and she hadn’t. He turned to leave, not knowing what else to say or do. He barely made it one step before a hand shot out and grasped his arm tightly, as if her life depended on it. 

“Stay,” her voice so quiet he had barely heard her. He moved back to stand in front of her, hating how frail she looked. He hadn’t known her for long but he knew that this wasn’t her. She was strong, stronger than most people he knew. 

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded, desperation thinly veiled in his voice. She grabbed his hand, pulling him even closer to her and finally turned her head up to look at him. Her eyes echoed the same desperation that he felt. 

“Just… hold me,” Jughead nodded at her request, crawling onto the bed and moving to sit with his back against the headboard. He held open his arms for her and felt the ice inside him melt away as she scooted to rest her back against her chest. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her close to him. He never wanted to let her go, never wanted her to feel this way again. Even if it was crazy, and he barely knew her, he knew that he would do anything to protect her. 

 

They sat like that for what could have been hours or minutes. Jughead had no clue. Time lost its relevancy when he was with Betty. She shifts in his arms, and it's only then that Jughead realizes she had fallen asleep. Something about that filled him with warmth, that she felt safe enough to completely let her guard down around him. 

He loosened his hold on her, letting her stretch out her sore muscles. “How are you?” He hated himself for asking the question, but he needed to say something. 

Her throat was rough when she answered him, “Thirsty,” she made to get up but he gently placed a hand on her arm. 

“I’ll get it.” He untangled himself from her and walked out the door. He made his way quickly down to the kitchen, not wanting to be away from her for too long. He filled a large glass with water, drinking straight from the tap himself, before making his way back to her room. Her arms were wrapped around her middle when he entered the room, her head shooting up at his entrance. 

He held out the cup to her and watched for a moment as she sipped the water. He turned to look behind him, finding what he was looking for. He grabbed the chair sitting at the vanity and pulled it over to sit in front of Betty. She placed the cup on the nightstand beside the bed and looked down at her clasped hands. Jughead hadn’t seen her so defeated in all the time he had known her. There was still blood there from earlier, the sight so jarring against her pale skin. 

“Shit...your hands,” he faltered, “I’ll go get a washcloth.” He moved to get up but she beat him to it, standing quickly. 

“It’s fine,” she murmured. She left the room and a few moments later he heard the muted sounds of water running. His mind wandered to the evening's events. Underneath his concern for Betty, he was still fuming over Malachai. 

He thought back to what the Ghoulie leader had said. _ I never imagined that Jughead Jones, Serpent King, would want my sloppy seconds.  _ What did he mean by that? Something niggled at the back of Jughead’s brain, but he pushed it down. He convinced himself that Malachai was just trying to get a rise out of him. He had probably seen the way Jughead had been dancing with Betty, and then when he discovered that it was Betty he had decided to plunge the knife a little deeper. Jughead tried to convince himself that that was the case because the alternative that was sitting in the back of his mind was too awful to think about. 

He didn’t even notice Betty walk back into the room, he was thinking too deeply. It wasn’t until he felt a hand laid softly on his shoulder that he snapped out of his thoughts. She stood behind him, looking warily at him. She looked at him stubbornly for a moment, before it all melted away and revealed only a drained look. 

She came to sit on the edge of the bed right in front of him, sighing heavily. “I’m sure you have questions.”

Jughead surveyed her carefully, she looked a little more herself, albeit a much more troubled version. He shook his head in confusion, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “You just went through… all of that shit... And you’re asking  _ me  _ if  _ I  _  have questions?” He was astounded. 

Betty shrugged her shoulders, looking as if she was indifferent to the events that had occurred. “I just feel like you deserve some kind of explanation.” Jughead nodded at her over-simplified justification. He did have questions, but he had no clue where to start, or what was even on the table to discuss. He wavered for a moment before he decided to just jump in. He would pay close attention to her answers he decided, if it seemed like she was getting overwhelmed he would call it. 

“What happened when we left the warehouse? You were okay, and then you weren’t.” She seemed to weigh her words carefully, taking a few minutes before answering. 

“An anxiety attack,” she answered finally, “a pretty bad one. I used to get them a lot in high school, but as I got older I learned how to reign them in before they got out of hand.” She scoffed quietly, “That is obviously not what happened tonight.” 

Jughead nodded at her answer, not wanting to dive too deeply into her past. That’s not what tonight was about. “And your hands,” he continued. She glanced down at them before squeezing her eyes shut. “You don’t have to tell me,” he rushed out. 

“No,” Betty interrupted, “it’s okay. It’s just...hard.” She took another moment before continuing, but he knew he would wait however long it took. “It started when the anxiety got worse. It was another thing that I learned to control, but then when I was kidnapped it got worse again. It was the only thing I could control when I was locked up in the basement. I’ve been better since I got out, there have only been a couple times when I wanted to do it, but tonight felt out of my control. Before I even knew what was happening it seemed like my mind had already decided what to do.” 

Again, Jughead took this answer in stride. He couldn’t imagine wanting to harm oneself, but he figured it was something akin to his father’s alcoholism, sometimes the need for control came out in harsh ways. 

“You probably think I’m crazy,” she whispered quietly. Jughead’s heart clenched as her head drooped down. She had mistaken his silence for condemnation when in reality he just didn’t know what to say. He grabbed her hands without thinking, turning them over to see her palms. He couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out at the sight of them. There were small crescents all over the skin, some white and faded, some a pale pink, and four that were an angry red. Before she could pull her hands away and before he could rethink it, he brought her palms up to his mouth, gently kissing both. 

When she brought her head up he looked her in the eyes with confidence. “Every part of you is beautiful, Betty Cooper, scars and all.” He watched as her eyes glistened, unshed tears sitting there. “I do have one last question, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continued softly. She nodded at him to continue. 

“What did Malachai mean by you being his sloppy seconds?” The words might have been said quietly, but they had the force of bullets being shot. He saw her suck in a breath, the fear returning to her eyes instantly.  _ Shit, you idiot you took it too far, _ he scolded himself, hating himself for causing such a reaction in her. “Shit, I’m sorry, Betty. You don’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” she choked out, cutting him off. “I think...I think I need to tell someone the rest of the story from my last day in that basement.”

“What did Malachai mean by you being his sloppy seconds?” Betty felt her heart stop at the words. She should have known that this would come up, that Jughead would want to know. He was observant, not oblivious, and she should have known that eventually, he would ask. Her mind instantly shot back to that last day in the basement, a sick feeling coming over her. Oh god, was she going to puke again?

“Shit, I’m sorry, Betty. You don’t have to…” She heard the words as if there was a blanket over her head, muffled and muted, but she understood what he was saying. He was giving her an out. She desperately wanted to take it but instead what came out was, “It’s fine, I think,” she stumbled over her words, “I think I need to tell someone the rest of the story from my last day in that basement.” The words hung in the air. She didn’t wait for him to speak again, she needed to get it out all in one shot. 

“He was keeping me awake, depriving me of sleep was one of his favorite ways to taunt me. I have no clue how long I had been awake for, but every time I shut my eyes he would lash out and cut me. The sting was always enough to keep me awake for a couple hours. I was starting to hallucinate, seeing things flashing in and out of the corner of my eyes, horrible things that made my stomach turn.

I closed my eyes, just for a second, I remember just wanting to close them for a second. Then I felt his hand on my ankle. He pulled on it hard and before I could try to turn away he had already slashed his knife across my thigh. The cut was so deep and there was so much blood…” Her voice caught and she closed her eyes, wanting to look anywhere but at the man sitting in front of her. Betty felt a gentle hand on her thigh and she took a deep breath, know in her heart that she needed to finish her story. 

“He was...absolutely enchanted by my blood. He ran his hand through it and watched it drip off his fingers. The look on his face was horrifying. I was watching him, trying to tell myself that it would be over soon, if I didn’t pass out from blood loss then surely he would get bored and leave me alone.

But it wasn’t. He grabbed my face, the stench of my blood almost making me puke, and he squeezed so hard. It all happened so fast. The next thing I knew he was on top of me, his body pinning mine down and then his mouth was on mine, suffocating me. I thought if I didn’t kiss him back he would stop, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he stop?” She felt her breathing hitch as she relived the moment, her words rushing out now at breakneck speed. “I felt him get hard and I knew what was going to happen next. There was nothing I could do to stop it and I remember just wishing that I could die, that I wouldn’t have to live through what I knew he was going to do to me. I don’t remember a lot after that. I was losing too much blood, but I remember hearing the door bang open and hearing Malachai shout at someone. Then his weight was gone and someone was picking me up. I was too relieved to even fight against them. I just let them carry me to the door and when they told me to run I didn’t question it. 

All I’ve been thinking since that day is that he almost...he would have done it. I could see the look in his eyes. He was going to do it, Jug. And it wouldn’t have bothered him one bit. How can someone do that?”

The last question came out raspy, her voice giving away to the pain that she had been holding inside her since that day. She felt the sob lodge in her throat before it broke loose, letting go of a dam of tears that she had been holding back. She felt the last piece of her break, that thin thread that was holding her together snapped, tossing her into a black oblivion of pain. There was nothing she could do to come back, she would forever be lost to this pain than ebbed and flowed inside her like a river. 

“Hey,” a voice, soft and gentle, cut through the sound of her tears, “it’s not your fault, Betts. He’s a sick fuck and I promise, god,  _ I promise _ that I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.” She heard the threat in his voice and she marveled at how he was able to switch between the two emotions so easily. How he could be gentle and soothing in one moment, and then the ruthless Serpent King another. She knew in her head that she should be scared of him, and rightfully so. No one had ever had anything good to say about Jughead Jones. But some part of her reveled in his willingness to defend her, protect her. He was like her knight in shining armor, but not the typical prince that came in to save the damsel in distress. 

“Will you stay with me?” she croaked, not wanting to be alone, lest the nightmares come calling. She felt him brush a hair aside on her forehead, “Of course, anything.” She felt the ghost of a smile grace her lips at his words, moving to lay down on the bed. A moment later the lights flickered off and she felt the bed dip with his weight and she didn’t even restrain herself from snuggling deep into his warmth and breathing in his scent. For one night she would allow herself what she wanted most. Safety, security, and most of all, him. 

 

It took an hour for Betty to calm down enough to sleep, sobs hiccupping her breath, but he just held her close, and tried to soothe her as best he could. It was around two in the morning when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He carefully dug it out, not wanting to rouse Betty, and read the message waiting for him. 

It was from Archie.

_ Finally back to Joaquin's place. Had to go to hospital.  _

Jughead frowned at the text, responding quickly. 

_ What happened? Is everyone ok? _

_ Joaquin got stabbed by a Ghoulie, needed a few stitches. _

_ Everyone else is fine.  _

Jughead fumed at the information, hating how tonight had gotten away from him.

_ Ok. Thanks, Arch. I think tomorrow you should _

_ come to the Wyrm. We have some shit to figure _

_ out.  _

_ Alright. Night. _

Jughead head tucked his phone under the pillow, resting his hand gently on Betty once again. She was still sleeping soundly, not stirring once in all his moving. He was grateful that she was content, knowing how much inner turmoil lay beneath the surface. His thoughts wandered back to the warehouse. 

Malachai had specifically taunted him tonight, thinking he had gotten away with it, along with injuring one of his men. Jughead’s heart darkened at the thoughts swirling in his head, thoughts spurned on by the story Betty had told him. He wanted more than anything to do something to fix it. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, cowering in his parent's trailer, waiting for someone else to come clean up the mess they left behind.

No, he was a king, and what does a king do when someone threatens their kingdom? 

_ Destroy them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at crescentmoonmadness on Tumbr for sneak peeks and new aesthetics!


	9. Elm Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg formatting nightmares! I am so happy that this chapter is finally done and I am done troubleshooting my new editing program. Thank God for small miracles. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When she wakes up, she is alone. Her hand reached out to feel the bed beside her, the rumpled sheets cold to the touch. He’d been gone for a while. She doesn’t know why that fills her with such deep sadness. Or maybe she does but doesn’t want to admit it. 

Her mind takes her back to last night, relaying the events in rapid succession. He had been there for her in a way that no one ever had before. She knew that wasn’t entirely fair. She often didn’t let people see that broken side of her, but last night there had been no floodgates. Nothing to keep the panic at bay. Some part of her wanted to curl in on herself and never face the light of day or Jughead ever again. That part was mostly Alice.

_ Don’t show people your weaknesses, Betty. Be strong.  _

But last night she wasn’t strong. She couldn’t be. She paused, allowing her thoughts to roll around in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t that she couldn’t be strong, perhaps she just hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t wanted to face her pain alone, to hide the anxiety that riddled her thoughts. She had wanted someone to support her, to care for her. And she had wanted it to be Jughead. 

It was as simple as that. Betty wanted to trust him, wanted to lean on him for strength. Every part of her ached for his gentle touch, his reassuring words. No one had ever treated her so gently without making her feel weak. Somehow, with Jughead, she felt both cherished and empowered. Like it was okay to show her brokenness while simultaneously being strong.

But where was Jughead now? Had he woken up and gathered his senses, possibly realizing that she was more than he wanted to handle? Her heart twisted at that thought, and she tried to quiet it, to smother it before it could take root. 

She sighed deeply, running her small hands over her face. She couldn’t sit around thinking about what Jughead may or may not be thinking about her. It would drive her crazy.

She stared at the ceiling, flashes of Malachai and Jughead whipping in front of her eyes at breakneck speed. If there one thing she could take away from last night with certainty, it was that she needed to start looking for her father again. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that in all the chaos since she had escaped the Cemetery, she hadn’t once thought of continuing her search for her father. He was still missing, and she felt a sudden bout of guilt wash over her. 

Here she had been playing fry cook and galavanting around with Jughead and her father was still nowhere to be found. The guilt twisted in her stomach like a knife. Her hand reached around, grasping the cell phone lying on the nightstand, her fingers deftly dialing the number she knew by heart.

“Hey, Betty.” Her heart warmed at his soft voice, and she felt a sense of reassurance that she hadn’t felt a moment before. 

“Hey, Arch. What are you doing today?” She could almost hear his smile through the phone. She knew that lately, he hadn’t been able to do much, he had mostly been stuck at Jughead’s right-hand man’s house. How he was getting away with all his time away from work, she had no clue. She decided she would ask him about it later. They would have plenty of time to chat if they were able to pull off the plan she had in mind. 

“Well, I just got home from the hospital…” She gasped loudly into the phone, images of Archie covered in blood plaguing her thoughts. “Betty...are you there?” She realized that he was still trying to talk to her, but her loud breathing had prevented her from hearing him. 

“Are you alright, Arch? You’re not hurt, are you? I told you not to go back to the warehouse after we left.” 

“Betty, I’m fine,” he interrupted, “It wasn’t me who got hurt.” Her heart calmed at his words, letting them wash over her. Thank God, she didn’t know what she would do if he got hurt again because of her. Then the thoughts came back, if only a little more subdued.

“Who got hurt?” There was a heavy pause over the line, and she feared for the worst. She hadn’t been downstairs yet, hadn’t had a chance to take stock of which Serpents were at the bar which weren’t, not that that would help. It wasn’t a usual occurrence for all the Serpents to be at the bar at the same time. 

“It was Joaquin, he got stabbed last night by a Ghoulie.” Betty sucked in a sharp breath, unable to believe what he was saying. 

“Is he alright?” Her voice was quiet, subdued with the horrible news he had just given her. 

“He’s fine, he got a couple of stitches. Nothing too major, at least that’s what he’s saying. Jughead showed up pretty early this morning to come check on him.” So that’s where Jughead had gone. A wave of relief washed over her, he hadn’t left because he had been repulsed by her. He had gone to check on his friend. She scoffed at herself, of course, he hadn’t left her. She didn’t know why she let her thoughts get the best of her. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

“I want to go look for my dad,” she blurted out, not wanting to drag the phone conversation out any longer. She wanted to get out of the Wyrm and now was her best chance. She knew that Jughead wasn’t at the bar to stop her, she would be able to sneak out fairly easily. Archie replied hesitantly

“I don’t know, Betty. After last night I think we both need to lay low.” She shut her eyes tightly. No, she needed to get out of there. She had been cooped up for too long, and the longer she stayed, the more it felt like she would never find her dad. 

“Please, Archie,” she begged fervently, “I need to do something. I can’t just sit here anymore. Every day that passes by is another day that my dad could be…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t want to utter the words, her worst fear, out loud. Luckily, Archie knew her better than anyone and didn’t require her to continue. 

“Alright, meet me out back in twenty minutes. I have to shower first. I have Joaquin’s blood all over me.” She winced at his words, her mind created a blood-soaked image of her best friend. She tried to push it out of her thoughts. 

“Ok. I’ll see you soon.” 

 

She headed downstairs about fifteen minutes later, dressed in black jeans and a grey t-shirt. She was hoping to sneak out the back door without being noticed. She didn’t want to have to lie to anyone about where she was going. Her foot didn’t even hit the bottom step before his voice rang out. 

“Headed somewhere?” She cringed, cursing taking the front entrance. He was supposed to be at the hospital, what was he doing back at the bar already?

“Archie called me,” he explained, “He said you insisted on leaving the bar, but he was a little nervous to take you out himself. Seems like the party last night shook him up a little bit.” She turned to look at him, his black hair covered by the crown beanie as usual. A sigh took the place of an answer from her. She walked over to his booth slowly, carefully regarding the calm look on his face. 

“Look, Jughead, I can’t just sit here and play house while my father is still missing. I need to…” 

“Get caught? Put yourself back in the Cemetery basement? Or maybe even the ground if Malachai is good on his word.” She sucked in a breath at his harsh words. She knew the risks of going out alone, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew how to get around undetected.

“Are you forgetting that the Ghoulies know who you are staying with now? They’ll be watching the Wyrm closely, for mistakes exactly like the one you were just about to make.”

She stood in silence, unable to meet his eyes. She knew it was reckless to leave the Wyrm, but she couldn’t sit still anymore. Last night had shaken her up, but it had also shaken loose the memories of her time with the Ghoulies.

What if her dad was being held captive? He was probably terrified, and here she was holed up in a bar on the Southside, making french fries for bikers. The guilt was like a wave on the beach, crashing into her in consistently violent thrashes. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have anything to say. He knew where she stood. 

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Betty,” she looked up at him, the softness in his voice catching her off guard. “I sent a couple of the guys out to check the perimeter. The coast is clear for now, so if we go do some investigating now, then we won't be spotted.” 

Confusion crossed her face, “You...you’re offering to come with me?” He stood from the booth, coming to tower above her. Sometimes she forgot how much taller than her he was. 

“If you’ll have me,” was his simple answer. The stubborn part of Betty wanted to say no on principle. She was having a hard time believing that Archie would sell her out like this, but she could also see where he was coming from. He had been there last night, had seen the malice in Malachai’s eyes. 

“Fine,” her answer was short, pointed, “but we’re taking the bike.” She tried to hide her smile as he belted out a laugh. It was like music to her ears and almost made her forget that she was supposed to be mad at him. 

She walked towards the door, hearing him fall in line behind her, still chuckling to himself. 

* * *

He heads in the direction that she instructed. They were going to start at the Register, Betty’s father’s newspaper. He was wary of going to the Northside, the Serpents weren’t well-liked among to privileged folk that lived north of the train tracks, but he wanted to help. More importantly, he wanted Betty to stay safe.

They arrived in decent time, their scouts watching for any Ghoulies that might be trailing them. The coast had been clear, and while that should have made Jughead feel at ease, it only made him tenser. If the Ghoulies weren’t out waiting for an opportunity to take Bety, it means they were probably planning something a lot worse. Jughead tried to push the thought out of his mind, for the time being, pulling off his helmet and setting it on the handlebars.

He still felt the after effect of her warm arms wrapped around his middle, and he wished that they could have stayed there for longer. After last night, he knew that he couldn’t deny how he felt about Betty anymore. Jughead wasn’t chomping at the bit to tell her, he had already decided that he would do no such thing, but he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Jughead cared about her, more than he had ever intended to. 

She was already ahead of him, walking to the black door that lay at the back of the building. She produced a small key from her pocket, inserted it into the lock and turning gently. She shouldered the door open and he tried to push down his smile. He needed to control himself. He couldn’t be smiling at her like some lovestruck idiot all day. She was smart and observant. She would eventually figure out something was wrong with him. He had already made the mistake of trying to kiss her two nights ago, but it seemed like that had been forgotten in the chaos of last night. 

He wasn’t obtuse. He knew that Betty felt something for him too, even if it was only safety and comfort. She wouldn’t have asked him to stay last night if she didn’t. But even so, he needed to stay away. He couldn’t get attached. Their time together had an expiration date. Eventually, they would take care of Malachai, and she would find her father, and then she would be gone, like every other person in his life. His mother, Jellybean, even FP left him. 

His father never stuck around for long, nor did he hang around the Serpents much anymore. His stint behind bars had changed him. He never stayed in Riverdale for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. Instead, he traveled around the countryside on his bike. 

_ The world’s too big to stay in one place for long, boy. _

Those were the words FP lived by now. They were a cop-out. FP had no intentions of taking the Serpents back from Jughead. He never had. Instead, he would rather shirk his duties and leave his mess for his son to fix. The man in question had gone mere hours after he had patched up Betty. They wouldn’t hear from him for a while. 

Jughead stepped into the office after Betty, taking in the mess that surrounded them. He looked at her, taking in the soft blush on her face. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she apologized, “the last time I was here I wasn’t really in the frame of mind to clean up.” He shook his head, smirking. 

“I lead a group of unruly bikers, Betty. A little mess won’t scare me away.” She grinned sheepishly at him, and he couldn’t help but be taken by her beauty. It took his breath away time and time again. “So, tell me the plan.”

She took a deep breath then, seeming to gather her faculties. “I think I want to look over his paperwork again. I know for sure he was working with the Ghoulies. I saw text messages between him and one of the men at the Cemetery. That’s what gave me the idea to go check out the bar. Other than that, I have nothing.” 

She stepped away from him, and he watched as she drew her fingers through her long ponytail. He briefly wondered what it would feel like to have those fingers running through his hair, pushing his beanie off his head, trailing down his chest. He shook his head abruptly. He needed to get it together. Needed to focus on why there were at the office. They had a job to do, and it didn’t include him daydreaming about her. 

“I want to look through his paperwork again. There has to be some sort of paper trail. He’s got a horrible memory, he always carries a notepad with him, so he doesn’t forget anything.” Jughead took a step forward into the office, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll start in this corner, meet you in the middle?” His whole body warmed at the soft smile she gave him. 

“Thanks, Jug. Having your help...it means a lot.” 

“Of course, anything you need.” The gravity of her gaze weighed on him, and he realized that he had let his guard down. He shrugged his shoulders, hoping to give off a “devil-may-care” attitude and headed to his designated corner. 

They sifted through paperwork in silence, the minutes ticking by slowly on the clock. Every once in a while Jughead would go to the front window and glace out onto the street, making sure that there wasn’t anyone watching them. He hadn’t received a message from Sweet Pea, so he hoped that meant the boys were keeping the Ghoulies busy. 

He was mostly looking through financial records, nothing nefarious jumping out at him. They were all run through the Register, and if Betty’s father was up to something less than savory, Jughead could guess that he wasn’t going to use his newspaper to run the money through. He felt hopeless for a moment, thinking that they wouldn’t find anything helpful. 

He turned at grabbed another stack of papers, this one full of old issues of the Register. He combed through a couple of articles. Most of them had the same byline, Hal Cooper. The name was familiar, he had heard a couple of the boys around the bar talking about some reporter writing stories that defiled the name of the Serpents. 

It had never bothered Jughead enough to cause him to look into it. The articles were written by a Northsider, he had worked at a publishing company in New York, he knew bias when he saw it. There would have been no sense reading the articles, the reporter obviously had a set opinion.

He found a paper with one of those articles, the headline jumping out at him. 

**SOUTHSIDE SERPENT SICKNESS: THE PLAGUE OF OUR TOWN**

He skimmed through the words, taking in the one-sided narrative of what was really Ghoulie shenanigans being blamed on the Serpents. Again the name Hal Cooper stared up at him. Jughead prided himself on being observant, but he kicked himself for not realizing sooner. 

Betty’s father owned the Register, he was the Hal Cooper that was writing articles about them. And he was somehow mixed up with the Ghoulies. He glanced over at the blonde across the room. 

She was flipping through pages, her attention unwavering. Jughead looked around the room, looking for anything that may lead back to Hal, but there wasn’t much. No pictures were hanging on the walls, so personal effects, he didn’t even have his picture beside his name in the paper. There was nothing in the small office that would give Jughead a clue of what Hal looked like. Maybe he had seen him before. If he was sneaking around down business with the Ghoulies then perhaps he had encountered him before. But there was nothing. He read through the article again, reading the words that raked him and his family across the proverbial coals. He clutched the newspaper and headed over to Betty. 

“So your dad, he, uh...doesn’t have the best opinion of us,” He let the words hang there in the silence, trying to gauge her reaction. He should have known better. If her father had such a vendetta against the Serpents, then she had grown up his hatred of the gang. Deep down, she probably felt the same way. The apple never fell very far from the tree. 

She let out a long sigh, a hand coming to rest on her forehead delicately, her eyes coming to rest on the paper in his hand.

“Jug, my dad,” she started, her voice hesitant, “he has his own opinions about the Serpents. Opinions that don’t reflect how I feel anymore.” Jughead didn’t miss the word. Anymore.

“So you did share his opinions, at one point.” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but couldn’t manage it. It sounded strained and angry when really all he felt was sadness. 

“I did. At one point. But I’ve found,” Betty reached up to brush her hand against his, her warmth a shock to his system, “that a lot of his beliefs were unfounded. Living with the Serpents and spending time around them...well, I can say that I definitely don’t share the same opinions as my father anymore.” She smiled at him, and it lit up his world. He realized in that moment that he would do anything for that smile.

“That’s good,” he muttered softly, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re changing quite a few Serpents opinions on Northsiders.” She laughed, shaking her head. 

“That’s good,” she said, repeating the same words he had. 

He took a breath to soak in the moment. Betty didn’t hate him, or what he represented, he should have known that. 

It was the crippling self-doubt that kept sneaking in that derailed him. Betty was strong and had repeatedly shown him how strong she was. Even when she thought she was being weak, he saw her strength. He heard a sigh that pulled him from his thoughts. He looked down at her, taking in her defeated look. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything here,” she tossed down the pile of papers that she had been looking through, “Maybe if we check at his house, we might find something there.” Jughead nodded, eager to get her back on his bike, to feel her arms circled around him, to feel her close to him again.

* * *

The house was robin’s egg blue, and a dead-ringer for the ‘white-picket-fence’ lifestyle, complete with an actual white-picket fence. Jughead looked up at the empty two-story house, wondering what her life had been like growing up. He had images of well-rounded breakfasts and parents who never fought. She had probably been a cheerleader, or student-body president, or both.

They approached the front door, him trailing behind her slightly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and she pulled a key from her pocket, unlocking the door. As he followed her inside he was once again reminded how different her childhood must have been from his. The first thing he notices isn’t the pristine kitchen or the gleaming hardwood floors. No, it’s a portrait, larger than life, of a severe-looking woman who reminded him of Betty. She had the same blonde hair and green eyes, with small wrinkles adorning her eyes. She was what people would call a classic beauty. He walked up to the picture, feeling drawn in by the similarities he saw between her and the woman that stood directly behind him. 

“That’s my mother, Alice.” Jughead jumped slightly, turning to the woman who had now come to stand beside him. She was taking in the picture, a look crossing her face that he couldn’t identify. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, “I can see where you get your looks from.” At this she blushed, ducking her head. He smirked, happy in the knowledge that he had caused that blush. 

“You never talk about her,” he observed, thinking back to all their conversations. It was true, in the week that Jughead had known Betty, she hadn’t talked about her mother all that much, just the little bit of information she had divulged when they had sat on the cliff. He heard her let loose a small sigh from beside him. 

“She died,” she looked up at him, a sadness set in her eyes, “two years ago. I guess it’s hard to talk about it.” Jughead could have kicked himself.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, but she reached a hand up to settle on his arm, as if she was the one who should be comforting him. 

“It’s okay,” she started, “She had cancer, it was...awful. By the time she passed, we all just wanted her pain to end. I know she’s somewhere better now.” She let out a long sigh, eyes settled back on the portrait. 

“It just sucks,” she stopped to laugh, but it held no joy, “I spent most of my time with my mother bickering, hating how she used to boss me around, and now I would do anything for just one more day of her telling me that I wasn’t living up to my full potential.” 

Jughead watched the blonde beside him closely. It was apparent she had a complicated relationship with her mother, he was no stranger to that. He heart ached for her, as much as he fought with his family, they were still alive. He hadn’t seen his mother since he was a teenager, but he knew she was out there. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a parent. Without overthinking about his actions, he snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. 

Her hair smelled of vanilla and evergreens, it flooded his senses and clouded his mind. They stood like that for a while, staring up at her mother, letting the silence sit comfortably between them. 

 

Eventually, she gently pulled away from him, claiming that there were a couple of places in the house that she was going to look for clues. When he asked if she needed help she merely waved him off, telling him to make himself comfortable. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to do that. Every surface that one might sit on in the living room looked like it had never been sat on in its life. Everything was perfectly maintained, and he couldn’t help but feel like he would leave behind some invisible trace of his presence, some mark that he had been there. 

He walked around the large living area, looking at pictures that were hanging on the walls. He came up to one of Betty. She was younger in the picture, wearing a cheerleading uniform. He smiled at his correct assumption. She was just as stunning then as the woman that he had come to know, but something was missing in her smile. There was a vacantness in her eyes that wasn’t present she he looked on her. 

He looked at the next picture, a girl with the same blonde hair and green eyes. Her sister, he assumed. The ponytail that Betty usually wore was missing, replaced by a sparkly headband. She looked cold somehow, as if the smile on her face was there merely as a formality. 

One picture over was a portrait of all three women. Alice stood in the back one hand on each of her daughter’s shoulders. Again, all three smiles looked forced. 

The last photo on the wall was a family picture, and Jughead was amazed to see how drastically the smiles had changed. Betty was laughing at something said, her eyes sparkling brightly. Her sister, Polly, was bent over, mouth opened wide as if she couldn’t hold the happiness inside. Even their mother had a wry smile on her face, her body turned to look at the man beside her. Jughead’s eyes came to rest on the man in question, Betty’s father, Hal Cooper. There was something familiar about him, but Jughead couldn’t quite nail down what it was. Hal was smiling at his wife, a content look resting on his face. It was evident that he was the missing element that had changed the portrait from one of frozen stiffness to one of life. 

Jughead wondered what it might be like to have a father that fixed things, instead of broke them. He brought his attention back to the man, trying to figure out what it was that looked so familiar about him. He stared at the picture, taking in the green eyes and easy smile when it blindsided him. His stomach sunk to his toes as if a piece of lead sat there and was dragging it down. 

The man in the picture looked eerily like the one sitting in a warehouse outside of Riverdale. It slammed into Jughead like a tonne of bricks. “Coop,” the man he had been holding captive for the better part of three weeks, was Betty’s father. Guilt and confusion swirled angrily in his stomach, dislodging the breakfast he had eaten that morning. He clutched at his jacket, his fingers needing to dig into something. His panic suffocated him, making it impossible for him to breathe. He heard Betty’s footsteps on the stairs and tried to collect himself. She couldn’t find out about this. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but Jughead knew he couldn’t tell her. She was finally at a place where she had started to trust him. This would strip all that trust away, leaving behind only the poor opinions of gangs and men like Jughead that her father had raised her with. 

“That’s my favorite picture of us,” her words were quiet, but each one sunk into his skin painfully. “It was taken right before my mom got really sick, it’s the last family picture we have.” 

Jughead nodded, not trusting his voice. Her hand came to brush against his, and he pulled back as if he had been burned. He could feel the guilt seeping out of his pores, he wasn’t sure how she couldn’t smell it from a mile away. He took a step back from her, trying to ignore the bewildered look on her face. 

“Hey,” he started, his voice tight, “I just got a call from Sweet Pea, some Serpent stuff came up and I have to take off.” He watched as her face fell. 

“Oh, okay. Well, we can go, just let me lock up…” 

“I can’t take you back to the Wyrm.” The words came out harsher than he intended, her bewilderment turning to something akin to hurt, “Get Archie to bring you back. Joaquin has an old truck parked behind the trailer, the keys are hung up behind the door.” He started to back up towards the door, knowing for certain now that she was hurt by his words. 

“Jug, what’s going on?” He couldn’t look at her, seeing the mirror of the man he had beaten countless times in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry, Betty, I– I have to go.” He turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. He rammed his helmet on his head, leaving the one she had worn on the front step. He shoved the kickstand up without mercy, jumping the bike to life and tearing off down the street. He tried to convince himself that the drapes flickering in the front window of the perfect, robins-egg, two-story house was from a draft, and not a beautiful blonde watching after him. 

* * *

He didn’t make it far before he had to pull over. His breath clung to the inside of his visor, suffocating him. As soon as the bike stopped, he ripped on the offending item, letting it drop to the ground. His chest heaved with the discovery that was still trying to find purchase in his thoughts. Jughead dismounted his bike, walking tight turns around the machine. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, calling the one person he knew would understand.

“Penny,” his voice caught like someone was squeezing his throat tightly.

“Jug, what’s wrong?” He tried to calm his breathing, the wisps of air coming out ragged. His thoughts swirled around rampantly, endless circles of what-ifs. 

“It’s Betty– her dad– we have to–” 

“Jug, slow down!” Her shouting caused him to pause for a moment. He wondered if he could trust her. His mind flashed back to all the times she had helped him, they far outweighed the times she had hurt him. They might have a complicated relationship, but they were there for each other. He knew that Penny would know what to do. 

“The man we have at the warehouse. He’s Betty’s father.” He was met by silence on the line. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. He needed her help. 

“Penny?” He hated how weak his voice sounded, “God, tell me what to do.” Her voice came through clear as a summer sky.

“Don’t worry, Jug. We’ll figure it out. Just give me some time to think.” The line goes dead before he can answer, before he can ask what she means. 

His legs still, no longer having the energy to pace. A sense of desperation comes over him. He needs to fix this, no matter what. But first, he needs to find Penny. They need to make a plan. 

There had to be some way for Betty to get her father back that didn’t involve her ever finding out he was the one who had had him. He didn’t want to lose whatever it was that they had, what they were working towards. 

His stomach rolled and clenched, the thought of her finding out his dirty little secret enough to make him sick. 

He was going to fix this.

* * *

Archie pulled up to the house about fifteen minutes after Jughead had taken off. She had watched him through the window, pushing the gauzy curtain to the side, as he had sped down her old street. She was almost positive that his reason for leaving had been a lie.

He had been jumpy, shaken to his core. Betty desperately wanted to know what was wrong, and desperately wanted to help him. Like he had helped her. But it was clear that he hadn’t wanted her help. 

He probably thought that there was no help that she could offer. He had seen her at her worst last night, incapable of picking herself up, let alone supporting anyone else. 

But God, did she want to. Some part of her wanted to help him carry his worry, his pain. She wanted to share their wounds back and forth until they became synchronous in their hurt. 

Archie’s fist tapping gently on the door is what brings her back to herself. She hadn’t even heard the truck pull up. He was waiting for her to come to the door and let him in. They were beyond that kind of politeness, they had lived with each other and been friends long enough, but there was something about the Cooper residence that demanded good manners. 

She smiles at him, his bright smile dimmed somewhat in the afternoon light. 

“Hey, Betty,” the words ring out in the quiet of the house. Back when she was in high school, and Archie had lived next door, the calm in her home had been oppressive. Smothering her at every turn. The Cooper household was no place for roughhousing, child’s play, or shenanigans. There was always the Andrews residence for that. 

Now, as an adult, she just regarding the quiet sadly. There was no hum of the dryer, a load of laundry always on the go, lest it pile up and look unseemly. There was no clacking of keys as her mother wrote her latest article, no undertones of football from the basement. This quiet was filled with memories that hung in the air like dust particles, swirling around, unable to be caught or cleaned away. She couldn’t stay there for any longer. 

“Want to go to Pops?” It was their safe place. It was where they had gone when Fred and Mary had told their son about their divorce. It was in those red and white booths they had sat when Betty had found out about her mom’s cancer, and again when that cancer had won the battle. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” his answer filled the silence for a moment, and they walked out the door, closing the door and locking away the quiet for the time being. 

 

“What can I get you kids?” Betty smiled up at the man standing next to their table. His skin was wrinkled and dark, his age showing more and more with each passing year. Her chest warmed with the familiarity of it all. 

“Just the usual, Pops,” he nodded and turned to the redhead sitting across from her. 

“Me too,” one of Archie’s patent smiles broke out across his face, “Thanks, Pops.” Another constant in her life, she realized. Archie’s unfailing politeness. And it wasn’t just politeness, but the sincerity with which he thanked people and expressed gratitude. Everyone always knew that with Archie Andrews, a thank you was always sincere, an apology always came from the heart, and his words always rang true with inherent goodness that couldn’t be faked. 

Pops walked away, Betty watching his retreating figure. She brought her eyes back to Archie. 

“So,” the word hanging in the air, “Veronica?” A face-splitting smile broke out across Archie’s face.

“What did you think of her? She’s great, isn’t she? And beautiful. And smart. And…” She laughed at his gushing, reminding her of the time Josie McCoy had compared him to an excitable golden retriever. 

“She seemed great, Arch. Where is she from?” Archie settled into his seat, looking eager to share the information with her. 

“She just moved here from New York. Her dad is some big tycoon and apparently, he’s looking to invest in some real estate around Riverdale.” Betty nodded, wondering why anyone would want to come to Riverdale. Sure, it was a nice enough town, but there wasn’t a lot to attract outsiders. 

“Really though, Betty,” he paused and she took in the serious look on his face, “Your opinion is arguably one of the ones that I respect the most. I need to know what you really think of her.”

Betty’s heart swelled at his words. She felt the same way about him. He had been her sounding board and confidant for so many years, there were few people’s opinions that she trusted more than Archie’s.

“I think she's sweet and confident. Which is perfect for you, Arch. You deserve someone as kind as you.” He nodded at her words, letting them sink in. Betty knew she had only met the girl in question for a few minutes, but she had good intuition when it came to people. She was rarely wrong about her first impressions. 

“I wish I could have gotten to know her better, but-”

“But you had to go talk to Jughead,” he said with a sly smile. She blushed, trying to ignore the insinuation that was behind his words. “What's going on there?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing's going on.” She could have kicked herself. She was entirely too obvious, not able to hide her feelings around her best friend. 

Their order came then, and they both thanked Pop. He sat down two shakes, strawberry for Betty, vanilla for Archie, along with an order of chili fries and onion rings. Pop set the food in the middle of the table, knowing them well enough to know that they were going to share their food, although usually sharing meant Archie was eating the lion's share of the food while Betty picked at it. 

“So, what’s bugging you?” Her head swiveled to look at Archie, his eyes locked on her. Her heart pattered, wondering if she was really that transparent. 

“Why does anything have to be bugging me?” His eyes rolled. 

“Because I know you, Betty. I’ve known you since we were kids, for my whole life,” he began, “which means I know when something is bothering you.” She sighed, her chest deflating. She didn’t have the energy to hide anything from him. 

“It’s Jughead,” she started. 

Archie looked at her, a quizzical look on his face. “What about him?”

“I think I like him,” the words were whispered, like if she said them quiet enough then they wouldn’t count. Archie let out a breath, staying silent for a beat. 

“What are you going to do about it?” Betty looked him in the eye, dumbfounded. 

“What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do about it’? I just told you that I have a crush on the leader of the notorious Southside Serpents and that’s all you have to say? No warning, no cautionary words?” She waved her hands exasperatedly, feeling like she should have been receiving more of a reaction from the redhead. Archie shrugged, raising a shoulder and letting it fall. 

“Jughead’s a good guy,” he said, “and the Serpents get a worse reputation than they deserve, but I’m pretty sure that’s how they like it.” Betty stared at her best friend, not able to believe what he was saying. She had been counting on him being the voice of reason. 

“Look, Betty,” Archie started when the surprised look on her face didn’t budge, “I know you’re looking for a reason not to pursue this, but I won’t be part of that reason. Jughead is a good guy. He’s got a good heart, he’s pulled the Serpents up out of the mud and made something of them, everyone in the gang admires and respects him and that means something coming from a gang of hardened bikers. I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t try it with him.” Betty turned to stare out the window, feeling something akin to fear creeping along in her stomach. 

“What if I get hurt?” the words trembled as they left her lips and she turned back to see a look of understanding on Archie’s face. He chuckled, letting his gaze fall to the chipped tabletop before looking back up at her, a look of challenge on his face. 

“What if you fall in love?” The word made her heart clench. It was much too early for the L-word, but she got his point. She sighed a heavy sigh, putting her milkshake straw between her lips to give them something to do. They slurped in silence for a minute before her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, half-expecting a text from the man that they were discussing. Instead of seeing Jughead’s name on the screen she saw Unknown Number. 

Her brow furrowed. She had gotten a new number and no one would have it yet. In fact, the only people who had it were Archie, Toni, and Jughead. She opened the message, her heart sinking as she read the words. 

_ 6253 Rutherford Rd. That’s where he is.  _

_ Who is this? _

There was no answer. Betty tried her best to keep her face neutral, but she knew in her bones that if she were to go to that address, she would find her father. She looked up at Archie, who was more interested in the food on the table than he was in her texting. 

“Hey, Arch,” he looked up at her, questioning eyes peering at her, “Can I borrow the truck?”

* * *

He couldn’t sit around. The guilt was eating him alive, and all he couldn’t think about was how he could make this right before Betty had ever known he had been wrong. He sped along the gravel roads, having traded out his bike for the SUV. He knew what he needed to do, and he couldn’t wait for Penny. Jughead already knew that she would disagree with his course of action, but he couldn’t play her game anymore. Especially not now, not after he had discovered who the man they had tied up in the warehouse really was.

Her father. This whole time, her father had been with them. He didn’t even want to imagine the look that would shadow her face if she found out. 

That’s what brought him to where he was, whipped down dirt roads, trying to right this wrong before she found out. 

* * *

She finally escaped Archie's questioning. He hadn't been too keen on letting her borrow the truck without asking her a string of seemingly neverending questions. She couldn’t really blame him, the last time she had gone after her father Archie had been shot, and she had gotten kidnapped. This time she made sure he didn’t know where she was going, or what she was about to do. Betty didn’t want to drag him into this again.

She couldn’t put him in danger again. She would do what she should have done the first time. Deal with it herself. 

The gravel crunched under the tires of the truck as she pulled up to the warehouse. Her heart writhed in her chest, twisting and turning at the thought of finally finding her father. Her body moves on its own, opening the door to the truck, her legs floating her to the door of the warehouse. 

The door opened easily, whoever owned it must have left it unlocked. There were boxes everywhere, stacked three or four high. They made the building seem even more ominous, blocking her ability to see further than the next stack. She wondered what was in them, but set her mind to the task at hand 

The text had said her father was here somewhere, and she intended to get to him. She wove between the towers, looking around every corner. The warehouse was poorly lit, most of the lights were off except for three in the center of the main room. She headed in the direction of the lights, finding it suspicious that those specific ones were the only ones on. A chair came into view, a man sitting in it, slumped over, head resting on his chest. Betty saw a pool of something sticky and red under the chair, her heart drumming in her chest. 

The dirty blonde hair was all too familiar and she ran over, her feet slipping on the concrete. Tears sprang to her eyes as she neared him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, tightening like a vice. 

“Dad,” her voice shook, “Dad, it's me. It's Betty.” She cried as he looked up at her, his face broken and bloodied. His smile was weak, his eyes dull. The smile didn't live long on his face, overshadowed by a look of concern. 

“Betty, what are you doing here? You can't be here,” Betty watched as her father looked around wildly, a level of panic rising in him that she had never seen before. 

“I'm so sorry it took me so long to find you,” she sobbed, the guilt seeping into every bone in her body. She barely registered his hands pushing at her body. 

“Betty you have to leave before he comes back, you have to go!” She tried to reign in her tears, confused at the panic in her father's tone. 

“Who's coming back, Dad? Who did this to you?” There was a look of terror in his eyes that Betty had never witnessed before. A sense of horror that unsettled her. She was used to her dad being a rock, and it crawled across her skin like a spider creeping doesn't her spine. 

“Jones,” he rasped, “he's a monster, Betty. You have to get away before he finds you here.”

Her heart dropped away at the mention of Jones. The was Jughead's last name. But it was a common last name, wasn't it? Shortly her father meant some other Jones. He couldn't be talking about the man who had reached and cared for Betty. The man who defended her. Who made her feel safe. Who, just last night, had held her through her fear. Had looked straight into the heart of the ugliest part of herself and hadn't flinched. 

No. 

She refused to believe that that's who her father was talking about. Her father was still babbling about her need to get out before someone came back when she heard the door open. She looked at her father, trying to make a plan as quickly as possible. She ran to the nearest stack of boxes that was opposite of the door. Once she was safely behind it, she crushed down, poking only her head out enough to see the scene play out before her. 

There were quick steps, she listened to the staccato of them reverberating against the walls. 

Her heart stopped altogether when a voice rang out, “Archie?” 

His eyes looked around wildly, a type of mania that she had never seen in them before. He walked up to her father quickly, immediately until the ropes that binge his hands and feet. 

Even though her heart was stuttering in her chest, she somehow found herself walking out into the opening again.

“So all those times you told me we would find my dad...lies?” Jughead jerked, clearly not expecting anyone else to be there except her father. He swiveled quickly to look at her, desperation in his eyes. 

“Betty, I…”

“Don’t,” the word came out harshly, ripping her throat open. She didn’t want to hear what she was sure was a well-practiced explanation from him. Every ounce of trust she had had in Jughead was shattered the moment she had seen him walk in. Her brain buzzed with fury and confusion, a part of her not understanding why he would do this to her, another part not caring to hear the answer, only caring to get her father to safety. 

“If you ever meant anything you said to me, you’ll help me get him out of here, and then you’ll leave us alone.” The words were void of emotion, a blank canvas. He looked like he was going to argue, or at least say something, but thought better of it. He nodded at her, watching as she came to her father’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Jughead moved to do the same, doing his best to avoid touching her arm. Together they helped Hal stagger to the door, who had seemed to lose his ability to speak, or perhaps he was simply waiting to ask his questions out of earshot of the Serpent, which was what Betty thought was the more likely option. 

When they got outside Betty saw the SUV that had brought her to the Wyrm that first day. It was parked haphazardly, and it was then that she realized Jughead must have known someone was inside. That was why he had called for Archie. He had thought the redhead had figured out where Hal was. 

Betty moved towards the truck but felt Jughead stop moving, halting her own movement.

“We should take the SUV, he can lay down in the back,” she seethed at his words, what once may have seemed thoughtful and kind she now only heard betrayal and deceit.

“We don’t need your help,” she hissed, anger permeating every syllable.

“You’ll need some help getting him into the house, he can’t walk on his own, and your leg can’t bear all his weight.” His words were spoken with matter-of-factly, and she knew he was right. She wouldn’t be able to get her dad into the truck, let alone up the front stairs. She could always go get Archie, but that would mean taking her dad to the Southside, something she wasn’t keen on doing. 

She paused for a moment longer, trying to think of any alternative, but unable to come up with one she finally grated out a choked, “Fine.” She walked in the direction of the SUV, waiting for Jughead to open the back door, and then watched as he helped her father inside. He moved slowly, as if every bone in his body was beaten and sore. Still, her father said nothing above a wince of pain. As soon as her father was laying down across the seat, she ran around to the passenger door, flinging it open and throwing herself inside. Jughead came to sit in the driver’s seat, clipping in his seat belt before backing up out of the parking lot, turning the vehicle back towards town. 

Betty sat in her seat, staring straight forward, trying desperately to keep the tears that were begging to be shed from dripping down her face. 

* * *

The silence between them was deafening, all he wanted was to break it, to talk to her. He still didn’t know how she had figured out where Hal was, but he had been hoping to make it to the warehouse and release her father. Realistically, he knew that his plan had been flawed. In his mind, he would have taken Hal home, Betty being none the wiser, and everything would have stayed the same. She would have stayed at the Wyrm, her father would be back home, and everything would be fine. Now that his plan had crashed down around him, he could see the flaws in his thinking.

Had he really thought that he could continue seeing her? That her father wouldn’t talk about what he had done to him? About who had taken him? No, Betty would have eventually found out his ugly truth.

Maybe this way was better. A clean break, fueled by a wave of anger and hatred that would keep her safe from the horrors of his world. 

He parked in front of the house, the same house that he had walked into with her mere hours ago. How so much could change so fast?

Hal had fallen asleep in the backseat, exhaustion overriding the need to stay awake. Betty opened the back door, gently nudging her father awake. Jughead winced as the man bolted upright, a wild look of fear on his face. He knew that was his doing. The job might have been Penny’s, but the pain inflicted was on him. Bile rose in his throat as he thought back to only a week ago when he had taken pleasure in his part in the capture and torture of Hal Cooper. 

He walked close to the two Cooper’s the now dark sky with its plentiful stars looming above them. He helped Betty get her father into the house, the two of them struggling to get Hal into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Jughead left the room and headed downstairs as soon as Hal was laying down, finding it unbearable to be in the same place as the man, his guilt overshadowing every other emotion. 

He waited downstairs, his gaze drifting again to the picture that had alerted him to Hal’s identity. Eventually, he hears Betty’s soft steps on the stairs, her face closed off to him, giving nothing away. 

He let go of a shuddering breath, taking a step towards her. She took a step back. His heart cracked in two. Not that it had any right to. She wasn’t his, she owed him nothing. He had broken her trust, even without knowing that he was. 

“You’re not safe here,” he finally managed to croak out. He watched carefully, but she gave nothing away.

“I’m not coming back, Jughead. I’m staying here, with my dad.” He nodded, understanding why she wouldn’t want to come back. He hadn’t expected her to. He may not have known a lot about her, but he knew she was loyal. She wouldn’t leave her father in a time of need. 

“I’m going to send Toni and Sweet Pea over, to keep watch for Ghoulies. At the very least, them being here might deter the Ghoulies from making a move.” It was her turn to nod, no words leaving her lips. He waited for a beat, for her to say something, anything. 

Nothing. 

“Did they know?” The words come out broken, whispered softly. “Did… Did everyone know?”

He took a deep breath, this was his chance. She was giving him an opportunity to explain himself. 

“No one knew, Betty, I swear.” She let go of a breathe, nodding at his words. 

“Ok.”

“Betty, I didn’t know either. If I had known, I…” His words died on his lips when she looked at him. Her green eyes blazed with fury. 

“You what? You would have told me? Would you have let him go? How can I trust anything you say to me right now?” Regret welled in his stomach, the twisting and turning of his insides making him sick. 

“God, I don’t know, Betty. I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t know he was your dad?”

“What difference does it make?” Her voice raised to a screech, echoing through the room, “What does it matter if he was my dad or someone else’s? What you did is horrifying, no matter who it was. You, Jughead Jones, and a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I’m an idiot for not seeing that sooner.”

He took a step back, each of her words a dagger to the heart. She hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t already thought about himself, but coming from her it was so much worse. He looked down at the floor, preparing himself for what he knew he had to do next. He felt his mind take over, the ice that he so often felt ripping through him coating every inch of his heart, making it hard, solid, impenetrable. 

“I’ve never been anything less than myself with you, Betty. It’s not my fault that you were walking around with rose-colored glasses, making me out to be somebody I’m not.” He watched as her mouth gaped open at his words. He knew they were uncalled for, but they were necessary. Before he could stop himself he spoke again, “And it’s not my fault that you got attached.” 

Her face crumpled as he spoke, the rage filtering out of her features. Only sadness was left when she spoke. 

“Do you think this was my plan, Jughead? To fall for somebody like you?” His heart jumped into his throat. Did she just? It may not have been a black and white admission, but it wasn’t nothing either. She cared about him. If only she had said that earlier, the words would have sent him soaring. Now they just caused fear and panic. She was right, after all. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and she was a sheep. He had to keep her at a distance, it wasn’t safe for her around him. So he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that he had proven to himself time and time again that he was good at. He broke her. 

“Well, you sure picked a shitty person to fall for. I mean, really. The Serpent King, and you?” He could tell that his words were destroying her, cleaving her heart from her chest, but he could stop. He stepped close to her, close enough to smell the sweet scent of vanilla on her skin. 

“You’re wasting your time, Betty. I can’t fall in love. I don’t know how, and I wouldn’t want to even if I did.” 

Her hand was moving before he had even finished talking. The accompanying sting on his cheek surprised him.

“You need to leave.” Her words were laced with malice and thinly veiled rage. He saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes and took a step back, towards the door. He walked out of the door into the rain, not having noticed that the skies had opened up. Fitting, that the heavens would choose now to cry because that’s all he felt like doing.

* * *

He rode all the way home in the rain, the hard pellets of water stinging every inch of his body, soaking him through to the bone. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He rode through the streets until he reached the Wyrm, parking his bike in the garage. He walked past the Serpents in the bar, the look on his face deterring anyone from speaking to him. All except for Toni.

“Where’s Betty?” Jughead shuddered at the name, his body physically repulsed by the memory of what he had just done. “Jughead? Jug!” He turned to look at her, unable to bring himself to care. 

“Take Pea and go to 920 Elm Street. That’s where Betty is. I need you two to watch over the house for a few days. She’ll be expecting you.” He could tell that she wanted to ask more questions, but he quickly strode away before she could. He walked up the staircase and went into his room. 

It wasn’t until after he had securely turned the lock that he finally broke. He fell against the door, gasping breathes escaping him and slid down until he hit the floor. It was only then that he let himself cry, his heart breaking into a million tiny pieces. 

 

She gathered the warm water and washcloth that were sitting on the counter and slowly made her way upstairs. The emptiness inside her was numbing, but it was a welcome feeling. She would rather feel nothing over the aching pain that was sure to hit her eventually. 

She strode quietly into her father’s room, finding him asleep in his bed. There was still blood crusted on his face and neck, and she intended to get him cleaned up as much as she could. 

She came to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, dipping the cloth into the warm water and wringing it out. As she dabbed at the blood, Hal winced in pain. He parted his eyes slightly, relaxing when he saw Betty. 

He didn’t say anything for a while before he whispered, “You know him.” She stilled her hand, not wanting to answer her father’s unasked question. “Jones,” he clarified, even though she hadn’t needed him to, “you know him. How?” 

Betty sighed, her hands moving to dab at his face once again. 

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I think we’ve both had enough excitement for today.” He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to pry the answer from her mind, before nodding slightly. 

“I’m just really glad you’re home,” she whispered, a sob choking her, “You’re all I have left, I...I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t found you.” The tears dripped off her nose and onto her father’s chest, his hand coming up to rest gently on her cheek. 

“I’ll live, Betty. We can talk tomorrow.” She nodded, standing up from her place on the bed. 

“Sleep well,” she murmured before turning out the light. She left the door open, a part of her unable to be so physically separated from her father. 

She was about to walk into her own room when there was a knock at the door downstairs. Her heart raced, a small part of her wishing that it was Jughead, coming back to say that he was wrong, that he was sorry. 

She opened the door quickly, her heart plummeting when she saw that it was Toni and Sweet Pea at the door. Toni’s face had deep lines of concern etched into it, while Sweet Pea’s was darkened in some hidden emotion. 

“You’re here for babysitting duty?” The words were unfair, she knew that, but the hurt in her heart was too deep for her to think of anyone else. Toni looked like was about to speak, but Betty turned from the door, silencing the Serpents words. She walked to the linen closet down the hall and pulled out some sheets, a comforter, and a pillow. 

When she walked back into the living room, Toni and Sweet Pea were inside, the door closed and locked securely. She placed the items in her arms on the chair, trying not to make eye contact with either one of them. 

“There’s a spare bed upstairs, but one of you will have to sleep on the couch unless you want to share.” Sweet Pea reached out, grabbing the blanket and pillow. 

“Share with that thing?” He jabbed a thumb in Toni’s direction, “I’ll take the couch.” Betty nodded, not able to find it within herself to laugh at Sweet Pea’s attempt at humor. 

“Alright. Follow me,” she said to Toni, leading the way up the stairs. She showed Toni into Polly’s old room, not bothering to say goodnight before walking out. She was almost inside her room before a hand caught her around her wrist. She paused for a moment, looking down at the hand on her skin, then up at Toni. 

“Listen, I have no clue what happened today, but I can only assume that Jughead fucked up,” Betty said nothing. “He’s an idiot, Betty. You terrify him. He has never met anyone like you before, and that scares the shit out of him. If I know Jughead, I would bet money that he tried to push you away tonight. Don’t let him.” Toni’s last words were spoken passionately, but Betty stayed silent, gently pulling her wrist from Toni’s grasp. 

“Good night, Toni.” Betty turned away one last time, slipping into her childhood bedroom and closing the door behind her. It was only then that she let herself crack into the million pieces of her that were broken. She slid door the door, doing her best to keep her sobs silent, her nails biting into her palm to staunch her tears. Every breath was a struggle, and she cried until sleep claimed her, leaving her drained and empty on the floor. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at crescentmoonmadness for sneak peeks and musical inspirations!


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